Not With Haste
by katamarann
Summary: "Faith is the strength by which a shattered world shall emerge into the light." - Helen Keller :: The worlds of Anna Smith and John Bates become unexpectedly entwined, as they both question everything they've based their lives upon. :: Modern A/U
1. Chapter 1

_Though I may speak some tongue of old_  
_Or even spit out some holy word_  
_I have no strength from which to speak_  
_When you sit me down, and see I'm weak_

Two kilograms.

That was what a single human body had been reduced to. Every thought, every memory, every smile and laugh line, every straw-tinted hair, every crooked toe and gentle finger. Two kilograms.

Anna held the urn in her arms gently, as if she were cradling a baby. She stepped carefully over cracks in the uneven pavement as she picked her way aimlessly along the city streets, mindful that a stumble could spell disaster.

Her lips twisted upward unhumorously at this thought, as if anything could be more awful than watching your dear mother's own body feed upon itself until there was nothing left to sustain it. The cancer had moved swiftly, mercilessly, from her bones to her brain, within a few short months. It broke her spine first, then her spirit. In the end, she was a writhing spectre of pain, confused and pleading incoherently for relief. She damned her nurses, cursed God, and forgot her own daughter.

It was a horrible, horrible death. An unclean one.

Anna had no idea where she was going, really. She had intended on picking up her mother's remains from the funeral parlor, taking them home and placing them in the spot she'd set aside above the small fireplace in her living room, then going about the rest of her day. Perhaps she could go back to the office and get ahead of the mountain of paperwork that she was sure awaited her return. It was Saturday, so she likely wouldn't have to field any inquiries and sympathetic platitudes.

Instead, her feet carried her in the opposite direction from her home, past the park she used to bring her mother to in her wheelchair, when she still craved sunshine and had hair for the wind to blow. She drifted over the bridge where her father had died in a car accident twenty two years before, her fingers lightly drawing along the rough concrete pillar that still bore the scars, even now. Past the small run down old tea house where her mother had spilled hot tea all over a nervous university student cramming for his finals, which led to an exchange of phone numbers, a wedding, and two daughters.

When she realized her feet were beginning to hurt, she glanced skyward and sighed. She could hail a cab and head back toward her apartment again, if she were anywhere near the part of town where cabs frequented. Instead, she found herself in the older part of town, quiet and relatively deserted.

The twinge in her left foot had all the warnings of becoming a full-blown blister unless she got off her feet soon. She looked around for a bench but saw none. All of the small shops in the general vicinity seemed to be rolling up for the afternoon. She sighed and hefted the pretty blue urn in her arms…

And then the enormity of the situation became the heaviest thing in the world. Tears began gathering in her eyes and she blinked them back furiously. She felt her cheeks redden as she took a few calming breaths. Closing her eyes, she counted down from ten, a trick her father had taught her when she was young to control her anxiety. It would do her no good to have a panic attack right here in the middle of the street.

When she opened her eyes, she realized where her wandering had brought her. There, to her right, was the small parish her parents had married thirty-four years ago. Her fingernails tapped her mother's urn and she bit her lip.

_Guess you wanted to see the old place again, Mum?_ she thought. She squinted her eyes to read the hand-painted sign out front.

_Historic Downton Abbey_

_Est. 1374_

_Visitors Welcome & Encouraged_

_Open Daily - Sunday Services 9am_

_Reverend Howard Gantry_

An older man in overalls opened the wooden gate that closed off the wall around the church for her as she approached. He tipped his cap, a bit of black paint from the brush he held dripping onto the old cobbles of the entry path. "Oh bother," he muttered. "Suppose you should watch where you're stepping, miss," he apologized. He watched her with interest as she stepped around the mess he was making.

Anna gave him a quick thanks and walked up the path to the front entrance. She pulled on one of the heavy wooden doors and slid inside the narrow opening, letting the door close gently behind her. Out of the bright sunlight and into the relative darkness of the open nave, it took a few moments for her eyes to adjust. Maybe a few moments of prayer would do her some good, even though she hadn't exactly had any conversations with God lately.

She took a few steadying breaths and made her way toward the altar at the front of the small church. There were a few other people there, sitting relatively far apart from each other in separate pews. An elderly couple holding hands, their eyes closed serenely. A little boy and his father, heads bowed silently in prayer. A middle aged man in the front pew, staring ahead at the stained glass windows that depicted the crucifixion, studying them intently.

She carefully set the urn down beside her as she knelt at the altar. The wood railing before her was smooth from countless hands that had caressed it for comfort and strength. She folded her hands together and bowed her head in silent prayer.

At her murmured _"Amen," _she lifted her eyes to the mural of a suffering Christ on the cross.

_Life is suffering, _her illogical brain offered her without asking.

The dam opened. Tears flooded her eyes and her shoulders folded inward, her body suddenly wracked with sobs. She slapped her hand to her mouth in embarrassment as she bit her lip to fight back the rest of her grief. She managed to pick up the porcelain urn and get to her feet quickly enough to get her out of the church, but not too fast as to make a scene. She walked swiftly back up the center aisle, ignoring the screaming of her feet in her high heels, and slammed the door open, dashing out into the bright sunlight.

She stopped and tried to compose herself, tried so very hard to stop the overwhelming sense of loss from consuming her, but grief won. She began to cry openly, with ugly sobs and heaving breaths. She braced her free hand against the stone railing beside the steps.

A gentle warmth caressed her shoulder and she became slowly aware that it was someone's hand. Admonishing herself for being so dramatic, she sniffled loudly and looked up to see another hand offering her a packet of disposable tissue.

"Thank you," she managed to choke out as she grabbed a wad of soft tissue from the cellophane wrapper.

"No trouble at all," a man's voice said quietly. "I always carry a pack for just such an occasion."

Anna smiled despite her grief and quickly wiped at her nose, which was currently running like a faucet. She blinked back tears and looked up at the man, whose face was obscured by the strong sun directly behind his shoulder. She almost snorted at the movie cliche, the halo around the head of her kind rescuer.

"You come across a lot of sad lots like me, do you?" she said hoarsely, dabbing at her tear stained cheeks. She shifted a bit to get the glare out of her eyes and see the stranger better.

The dark-haired man smiled gently and shoved his hands in his pockets. "From time to time," he replied, bending his head lower to talk to her. "I saw you crying inside and figured you'd need them." He was a bit older than her, she'd venture to guess ten years? Maybe fifteen? Kind eyes were lined with the sort of crinkles that came from smiling. He wore a black oxford shirt and grey trousers with serviceable shoes. His sleeves were rolled up a bit from the wrists, and dark hair peeked from under the fabric.

Anna nodded in thanks and offered the rest of the package back to him. He held up his hand and shook his head. "Keep it," he offered. "You many need more later." He glanced downward at the urn still clutched tightly in her left arm. "You've lost someone dear to you." It wasn't a question.

"My mother," Anna answered. She sniffled softly. "On Tuesday. Cancer."

The kind-eyed man grimaced and nodded in understanding. "Horrible disease. I hope it was peaceful."

She felt a flash of anger at his words and set her jaw. "That's the thing," she spat, though not at him. "It wasn't. It was nothing like the pamphlets and support groups say." Tears began falling anew and she made no effort to fight them this time. "Why did she have to suffer so much?"

The man gently turned her by her elbow and steered her to sit down on the steps of the church. He slid down beside her, a comfortable distance for a stranger, but close enough that they could talk somewhat intimately. He stuck one leg out straight in front of him and folded his hands on his other bent knee. He sighed heavily and looked upward. "I ask myself that same question every day. Why do we suffer? Why does this thing or that thing _hurt_ so much? The physical, the mental, the emotional?" He spread his hands and screwed his face tightly. "One can say it's to know what _good_ actually is, or to feel what it is to be human, or to teach us a lesson." He scratched at the back of his neck and grinned sheepishly. "It's all a load of cow manure, honestly."

Anna snorted and rolled her eyes. "You mean bullshit," she said.

He laughed and shrugged his shoulders. "I wasn't going to put it in such bold terms, but yes. Everyone suffers differently. Everyone loves and loses in their own way. It changes us. For better or worse, but it's part of life. I can't offer much more than that without giving you an entire sermon, and I'm sure that's not what you came here for." He spread his hands helplessly. "Everything happens for a reason, good and bad. You learn from it, you grow from it, and you keep on going."

Anna wiped the rest of her tears, realizing she'd gone through the whole package of tissue. "Well," she said with a small smile. "You should be a motivational speaker, Mister…"

His eyes narrowed strangely, as if she'd somehow caught him off guard. "Bates," he said, extending his hand and taking hers in a warm grasp. "John Bates." He shifted a little on the step and smiled broadly. "I do a little motivational speaking, yes."

"You're not bad," Anna allowed him, earning a wider smile from him. "You're not that strange Tony Robbins fellow, but..."

He laughed openly and regarded her with his green eyes. "I'm not nearly as tall. And I've told you my name, so…"

Anna shook her head to clear the bit of fog that had settled in it. "I'm sorry," she apologized. "And before you say _nice to meet you, sorry_ like my Papa used to, my name is Anna Smith."

"Well, I'm certainly pleased to meet you, Anna Smith," John said. "Are you a member of this church?"

"No, but my parents were married here. It's a lovely old place. Very inviting."

He nodded in agreement. "That it is. If you were looking for someplace on Sunday, it's a nice group of people. Not old and stodgy like your grandparents' church probably was in its day. Perhaps you could join us tomorrow? If you're feeling up to it, of course."

She considered him and what seemed to be just a friendly invitation to an Sunday service. It had been years since she'd been to church and the sudden feeling of calmness that washed over her at the memories of going with her family made the decision for her. Not to mention, the appraising look that John Bates was currently giving her, part friendly and formal and part...something else? There was a slight heat behind his eyes that intrigued her, a darkening of his expression that she found attractive. She glanced quickly at his left hand, noticing no ring and no indentation of where one should have been.

"A motivational speaker and salesman. Perhaps I've been persuaded, Mister Bates," she said, drawing the long vowel of his last name out slightly.

His eyes lit up and he grinned again, the wrinkles around his eyes deepening. "Wonderful. See you tomorrow morning?"

Anna turned on her heel and tossed a smile back over her shoulder. "I actually look forward to it. Thank you ever so much." She took two steps and remembered she had wanted a cab earlier. "Oh, can you tell me where I can hail a cab?"

He frowned and pointed down the street. "Actually, I think there's a dispatch two streets over? I'm actually sort of new in town, but I'm fairly certain there's one just over there. I think it's called Branson's or something like it."

"Thanks again, Mister Bates."

"John," he corrected her.

"John," Anna replied with a raised brow and a toothy grin as he waved from the steps of the church. "Goodbye." She felt his eyes boring into her back as she left the courtyard.

_What just happened?_ she thought in amusement. She glanced down at the urn, which she knew didn't contain her mother's soul or spirit, and thanked her nonetheless.


	2. Chapter 2

The cabbie dispatch had been exactly where John Bates said it would be, manned by a sour grump of an old Irishman. His eyes brightened only slightly at the prospect of making a few pounds on a slow Saturday afternoon, then returned to their previous disinterest when he realized it was a small fare. Nonetheless, fifteen minutes later, after being slammed from side to side in the old, musty cab, Anna was deposited in front of her apartment building, urn and body intact, if a bit jostled.

She sighed in relief when she shut the door to her apartment behind her, tossing her keys in a bowl on the entry table and setting the urn down to shrug off her jacket and kick off her infernal shoes.

"That it?" a voice called from the kitchen.

Anna smiled slightly and sighed as she thumbed her way through the day's post on the table. "Yeah, what's left, at least."

Gwen padded into the entry hall from the kitchen, a spoon in one hand, another in her mouth, and holding a tub of ice cream under her elbow. She offered the clean spoon to Anna and dug her own back into the tub. She shoved another heaping scoop into her mouth and regarded Anna's mother's ashes with a frown. "Smaller than I thought it'd be," she said with a shrug around her spoon.

"Body's seventy-five percent water," Anna recalled, "so I guess that's about right." She picked up the urn and carried it over to the small fireplace in the living room, setting it on the left side of the mantle. She adjusted the framed photo of her mother at an angle with the porcelain vase, gave it a lingering touch, and slumped down into the nearest chair. "Come on," she said with a sigh, holding out her hand for the ice cream. "Hand it here."

Gwen grabbed a pillow from the couch and placed it on the floor, settling down on top of it, within reach of Anna and their shared dessert. "Sorry I had to use your key," she apologized, "but I left my sweater here after the wake, and then I saw you had mint chocolate chip in your freezer and…"

"You helped yourself," Anna finished for her. "S'fine. I don't think I really wanted to be alone anyway, come to think of it." She scraped the edge of the carton, which was emptying fast between the two of them.

"Where'd you go? I mean after you got her. You were gone a good while."

Anna shook her head and frowned. "Just...I went for a walk. Nowhere in particular really. Ended up at the church where my parents were married, of all places."

This seemed to satisfy Gwen for the moment, who busied herself with finding the remote for the television and flipping to the first horrible romantic comedy she could find. Anna's cat, Moses, a mean old bag of grey fur with piercing eyes, glared at her from his perch on the back of the couch. Anna ignored the movie as well as the cat for the most part, instead letting her eyes drift upward to her mother's ashes wistfully. Gwen seemed to sense her mood after a while and turned off the television. She stared at Anna pointedly for a minute, tapping her spoon against her foot before Anna couldn't stand it any longer.

"Out with it," Anna sighed.

Gwen bit her lip, thinking carefully before speaking. "I know it's been a bad week, what with what happened, but you remember that tonight was that party I wanted to go to…"

Anna closed her eyes and leaned her head on the back of the chair. "Don't let me stop you."

"And if you don't want to go, I understand…"

"You're right. I just picked up my mother's mortal remains, and you want me to go to a party?"

"And I wouldn't be asking if Eric wasn't going to be there…"

Anna's eyes shot open. "I thought you were going to see some fellow named Iain? I thought you were over Eric and into the _'I wouldn't piss on him if he was on fire'_ stage, as I recall?"

Gwen wrung her hands together. "That's the thing...I'm supposed to meet Iain there, but Ethel says Eric sort of invited himself because he wanted to see me, and you know how Ethel can't turn anyone down."

"Don't I know it," Anna said with a snort. She sighed and leveled her gaze at her best friend. "So let me get this straight. You need me to run interference with your ex because you want to hook up with some guy you met on Facebook, is that it?"

Gwen grinned and nodded. "He's the friend of a friend. Of...a friend. It's complicated," she gushed. "Anyway, it would do you some good to get out, and maybe you'll meet someone there. I think she's invited half the town."

"You forget that I've probably met half of the town because of our jobs, and the other half I don't care to meet. I swear I think Ethel just stays at the firm so she can meet men." Anna screwed her eyes shut and pinched the bridge of her nose. It may do her some good to get out for an evening after being tied to her mother's bedside for the past two months. "All right."

Gwen shrieked and threw her arms around Anna's legs from the floor. "I owe you so much!" she gushed.

"You owe a few strong drinks for forcing me back into _those_ shoes," Anna sighed as she wiggled her aching feet. "And another pint of ice cream."

**II**

The music was loud, the people were drunk, the room was dark and somewhat smoky. All combined, it was giving her a splitting headache. Gwen's fellow hadn't shown up after all, and after exchanging a few angry texts with him, he became _persona non grata_ to her. "I'm deleting him," she snapped as she made a few swipes on her phone.

Anna sipped her drink, relishing the sweet burn that went across her tongue. "Seems so final, deleting him from your Facebook," she said with arched brows. "It's the new divorce. The future is here." Her eyes narrowed shrewdly.

Gwen's shoulders slumped in defeat. "I'm just sorry I dragged you out here. Iain didn't show, Eric isn't even paying any attention to me," she said as she glared at her ex boyfriend, who was currently kissing the neck of some college-aged girl in the corner. "It was selfish of me. You're not even having any fun."

"I'm having plenty of fun," Anna retorted. "I'm racy. I'm _fun_. This lot is just a bit younger than I'm used to."

"More like we're getting older."

Anna hummed in agreement before tossing the rest of her drink back. "You know, I am a bit tired, and I think I've hit my limit for the evening." She glanced at her watch. "It's technically Sunday now. Supposed to be a good girl on Sundays."

"Right," Gwen huffed. "Come on, let's get a cab and go home. I've got better booze in my kitchen cabinet anyway that's not watered down like this mess."

Something, or was it someone? _Someone_ was pounding at her head.

"Anner," Gwen slurred, tapping Anna's face.

The morning light was entirely too bright as Anna let her eyes open a sliver. She groaned and covered her face with the nearest pillow she could find.

"_Anner_, phone."

Anna reached blindly for the phone that she vaguely remembered setting on Gwen's nightstand sometime around five in the morning, when they both grew tired of the _Lord of the Rings_ marathon Gwen had suggested. _"But it's Orlando Blooooom!" _she had offered drunkenly as they both curled up beside each other on Gwen's bed. _"You take a sip every time he kills an Orc."_

The phone was ringing incessantly, and Anna managed to focus enough to see that it was her sister calling. "Bullocks," she swore as she swallowed the cottonmouth from her hangover. She swiped the screen. "Hey, Emm," she groaned into the phone.

"Anna?" Emily's voice was entirely too shrill and offensively perky this morning. "Where are you? I tried your apartment."

She sat up and rubbed her forehead. "Umm, at Gwen's. I had a bad night, you know? Stayed here for the night." Of course her sister wouldn't know. She couldn't be bothered to come home to see their mother in several years, much less help to take care of her, say goodbye, or pay her respects.

Emily sighed loudly and Anna could hear the sound of her two children screaming vulgarities in the background, far too loudly for a pair of eight year olds who should have some manners by now. "How are things?" Emily finally asked.

For the first time since her mother died, tears didn't come immediately. Instead, she was filled with irritation and bitterness. "You know, I have a ton of work waiting on me at the office, I'm still not attached, I live with my ex's nasty old cat, and Mum's gone after taking care of her non-stop the past two months. Other than that, I'm brilliant." She glanced at the alarm clock beside her. Quarter past eleven. Something tickled at the back of her mind…

"You don't have to be sharp, Anna," her sister said. "I would have come if Dennis had been able to take time off."

"He owns the company," Anna said in exasperation. "He makes, what, eight figures a year? You probably have enough frequent flyer miles that Richard Branson _himself_ would have flown you home, plus I know for a _fact_ you have his number in your mobile because you showed it to me once. But I get it, you're too busy. For the past two months, you've been too busy. Two _years_ really."

"I didn't call to fight with you," Emily snapped.

Anna's stomach was beginning to churn. Bad sign. "Then why did you call?" she shot right back.

"I called to see what you're doing about the house. When are you selling it?"

This was her idea of not calling to fight? "I've no plans of the sort right now."

She could hear Emily's brain calculating from five thousand miles and several satellites away. "You know that half of it should be mine."

There is was. She knew it was coming. And she knew what had to be said. "Actually, it's not," she answered. "Mum put my name on the deed about five years ago when she rewrote her will. You'll get the contents of your old room, Henry and Harvey get a little bit for their college fund, but the house itself is mine. You said so yourself, there was nothing in Yorkshire for you anymore." Not that she knew what she would do with the old four bedroom house with the lovely little garden out back. It was far too big for her, but she wasn't nearly ready to give it up.

She hated to be so blunt about it, but it was the cold truth. Emily hadn't been home in years, the boys had only met their grandmother twice, and for all intents and purposes, they had been cut out of Tabitha Smith's life, and Anna's as well. There was the occasional Christmas card, and a phone call once a year or so, but that was it. Emily Grant had shunned their very modest upbringing in favor of her husband's fast-paced and lavish world in Silicon Valley. The tech boom had been good to Dennis. He was a plain looking and dull man with a knack for electronics and business who landed himself a gorgeous English blonde who knew how to host a good party and keep his ego afloat. Emily had admitted in a drunken 2am phone call some time ago that she hadn't loved her husband in years, just the _idea_ of him and what he could do for her.

Emily's reply was terse. "I'll need her lawyer to send ours a copy of the will so he can look over it."

Anna shrugged, the motion sending her stomach into a tailspin. "He can look all he wants. You remember I work for a law firm myself. It's ironclad."

Her sister barked a ridiculous laugh. "Ah yes, the legal secretary with all the answers about the law. How's the degree going?"

"_Senior researcher_," Anna corrected. "Gwen's the head secretary." An ugly thought crossed her mind. "And I'm _not_ sending you half of her ashes, so don't ask."

"Don't be vulgar," Emily snapped. "Look, just send the will, and it will all sort itself in the end."

Anna rubbed her forehead. "I'll have it sent when I get a chance."

Emily sighed heavily. "I suppose I'll talk to you some other time, then," she said with finality.

"Right. Some other time." The phone beeped and Anna looked at the screen. Emily had hung up on her.

Gwen's face was still buried under her pillow. "Your sister still sounds like a hosebeast," she mumbled sleepily.

Anna would have answered if her stomach hadn't picked that moment to show its displeasure at last night's festivities. She flew into the bathroom and emptied what little bit she had inside her into the toilet. She was washing her face with a cool cloth when Gwen groaned from behind her.

"Why did God make alcohol so wonderful if it does this crap to us?" Gwen said weakly as she stumbled into the bathroom.

It was that moment that Anna remembered where she had promised to be that morning.


	3. Chapter 3

**I.**

Anna returned to work on Monday morning, 8am sharp, her eyes dried out and not a hair out of place. When she opened the front door of the Law Offices of O'Brien, Swire, Barrow & Swire, she was immediately greeted with the expected sympathies and sad smiles. She thanked everyone who offered their kind words and eventually made her way down the hall to her office, at the head of the records room for the firm. She set her leather satchel down on her desk, hung up her coat, and turned her computer on.

_You have 843 new messages, _her computer notified her with a little bubble in the corner.

"So much for anyone handling things while I was away," she muttered to herself. She pinched the bridge of her nose in irritation.

"So much for what?" Miss O'Brien called from the doorway.

Anna cursed her loose tongue and smiled prettily for the older woman, the senior partner in the firm. Sarah O'Brien had a reputation around town as someone who would go to any lengths to win a case, ethics be damned. Between her and her preferred junior partner, Thomas Barrow, it was a wonder the whole practice hadn't been shut down completely. People came to them when they wanted an attack dog in the courtroom, even if it meant getting guilty-as-sin criminals off scott free, or exaggerating actual events and injuries to win more money. Many of the so-called legal practices that O'Brien and Barrow did turned her stomach. Anna had put out feelers for another job last year with no luck. The market was dry and there was an overabundance of young people who chased dreams of fortune and morality, ending up as low level clerks and receptionists.

Anna herself had been one of them. She'd dreamed of defending the innocent and righting the wrongs in the world, yet here she was, in a job that she both enjoyed and despised. She was just out of arm's reach of being able to add _esquire_ to her name, and unable to do so any time soon. Life had dealt her another set of cards.

"Good morning, Miss O'Brien," Anna said with forced cheerfulness. "I was just thinking that I have a lot of catching up to do."

O'Brien raised her brows haughtily and nodded. "That's what you get for taking two months off. A load of work to catch up with. Should have thought of that."

"Well, I was within my rights to take that time under the Employee Relations Act."

O'Brien scowled and crossed her arms beneath her breasts. "Don't quote the law to me, missy. It doesn't mean everyone else will pick up your slack. Just means you'll have your job when you get back. Also doesn't mean I can't sack you later on if you don't get caught up fast enough, so don't think you'll get a load of pity from me. I'll be watching you, Smith. We don't have time for dilly dallying and shenanigans here."

Anna set her jaw squarely. "Oh, I'd never think that. Will that be all, Miss O'Brien? I'd really like to get started with my work."

O'Brien didn't say a word, just disappeared from the doorway with a harrumph. Anna rolled her eyes and drummed her nails on the desk.

Lavinia popped her head in from the adjoining office. "The way she talks, you would think she was hatched from a snake egg, not born of a human mother."

"You'd think," Anna stifled an ugly giggle and swiveled her chair toward the other woman. "How've you been, Vinnie? I heard about you and Matthew."

Lavinia looked down at her hands and pursed her lips as she leaned against the door frame. "It's...trying. We talk strictly about work, but never anything else. It's as if the last year didn't happen at all." She shrugged and fidgeted with her fingernails.

Anna eyed Lavinia sideways as she began to work. Her delete button was getting a workout as she glanced at the subject lines of the emails before her, deciding what was specifically for her and what was addressed to the whole firm. "And it's not strange, given that your father hired him to work here and he offered to make him a junior partner?" she asked carefully.

Matthew Crawley had been Lavinia's boyfriend in law school, and after a year apart, her father Reggie snagged him out of a back alley legal clinic in Manchester on his daughter's request. They became engaged shortly thereafter, and were in the throes of wedding planning when they'd mutually called it off. Unlike O'Brien and Barrow, he was actually a good person with a keen interest in helping people. Anna had high hopes that he would come to his senses and leave the firm before they tarnished his good heart.

"Well, the junior partner offer is off the table, obviously. Daddy's more hurt about it than I am." She sighed and tucked her red hair behind her ear. "We just grew apart, Matthew and I," Lavinia explained without any bitterness in her tone. She smiled wistfully and shrugged her shoulders. "I think we got engaged just because it seemed to be the thing to do when you're almost thirty and have been together since university. He's a nice enough chap, and some little part of me will always adore him, but we weren't good together. We were too...stagnant. He needed someone to shake him up. I know I do." She rolled her eyes and smacked her lips together. "Apparently he already has some girl dangling on a string."

"Oh? That was fast."

Lavinia looked behind her and into the hallway before coming all of the way into the office and leaning down over Anna's desk. "She's his third or fourth cousin!" she said in an excited whisper. "Also named Crawley."

Anna was shocked as she tried to remember her family law courses and how closely related third and fourth cousins actually were. "Get out of here," she said in disbelief

"I know," she grimaced in distaste. "It was actually quite funny. They met at some community event that he went to in York. They talked for hours before they bothered ask each other their _first_ names…"

"Oh my god," Anna gasped, worried where this was going.

Lavinia's eyes crinkled in amusement. "_Then_ late the morning when she left his flat, she asked for his business card and got _quite_ a shock when she saw his _last_ name. Ethel overheard him telling a friend about it over the phone."

Anna snorted and clapped her hand over her mouth. "I _did_ miss quite a bit when I was away. If only O'Brien and Barrow had been hit by a lorry or something it would have made coming back all the more pleasant."

Lavinia waved her hand. "Don't worry about O'Brien. Or Thomas for that matter, because I know he'll darken your doorstep any time now. I'll deal with them."

"What's this?"

As if he were Mephistopheles made flesh, Thomas Barrow appeared when mentioned. Anna sighed and prepared for the third degree from him as well.

**II.**

It took until the better part of late afternoon, but she had finally made good headway digging through the backlog of emails, faxes, and letters that clogged her inboxes, with help from Ethel and Ivy, the new intern from the University of Leeds. She had barely a moment to think about the events of the past few months, let alone pause to reflect on the past week. Her eyes were beginning to burn from the strain of staring at her monitor, so she closed them and leaned back in her chair, rolling her neck to relieve the tired muscles.

She opened her eyes only when she heard a soft knock on the frame of her office door. A tall, dark-haired woman stood there, dressed impeccably and raising one perfectly sculpted brow in query. "Hello?" the woman said by greeting.

"Can I help you?" Anna asked with a friendly smile.

The other woman smiled back and looked around. "I'm looking for Matthew Crawley? The girl at the desk said I could find him here?"

Anna raised her hand to point across the hall, but the door opposite opened instead, and Matthew Crawley emerged for the first time all day. His hair and shirt were both rumpled and looked as if he'd been locked in there all night. "That's okay, Anna, I've got her," he said tiredly as he admitted the other woman into the office and closed the door. Anna heard the distinct click of the lock behind them.

"So that's Mary Crawley," Lavinia said quietly from the cracked door between their two offices. "Funny, I expected wings and a halo for all the clouds he seems to be dancing on."

"Be nice," Anna chided. "She seems like a...lovely woman."

"You hesitated," Lavinia said with a raised finger.

"Well, I shouldn't judge her based on one sentence and a lurid tale of kissing cousins. We're a legal firm. It's not our place to decide. It's our job to _convince._"

Lavinia shook her head and snorted. "You're a far nicer and more innocent woman than I, Anna Smith." She glanced at her watch. "Why don't you go ahead and call it in? You didn't catch a lunch break today. I don't think you even got up to use the restroom."

Anna's neck cracked as she rolled it around a bit. "I think I got some water a few hours ago," She frowned. "I'm suddenly starving now that you mention it. I'll can grab something to eat on the way home. See you tomorrow?"

Lavinia smiled warmly. "Bright and early. It's good to have you back, dear. We've missed you."

"It's good to be back."

Anna tidied her desk up a bit, then logged out of the company server and shut her computer down. She grabbed her coat and bag and stepped out into the hallway, where she nearly ran into Matthew and his new lady as they emerged from his office. His hair was a bit more disheveled than earlier, and his tie knot was much looser. He gave her an embarrassed smile and Anna noticed that Mary was blushing from ear to ear.

"Erm, Anna," he stammered. "This is Mary Crawley. My...cousin. We're distantly, _distantly_ related."

Mary extended her hand before Anna could shift her bag and coat to the other arm. Anna took it briefly. "So I've heard," she said with a friendly smile. "Funny to run into another Crawley. Small world."

"You have no idea," Matthew scoffed as Mary blushed more crimson.

She recovered quickly. "There are quite a few of us around Yorkshire," Mary said. "Matthew here ended up falling far from the tree, for which I am glad." She looked Anna up and down appraisingly. "Matthew speaks fairly highly of you. What do you do here at the firm?" She gestured toward the front of the offices, and Anna fell into place between the two of them as they headed for the lobby.

"I'm senior researcher," Anna answered. "It's a bit more than a paralegal would normally do. I go to the scene of incidents, work with independent experts, coordinate their testimonies. A lot of fact checking and the like. I also proofread and verify that everything's on the level before Mister Crawley and Miss Swire go to the court for the day."

"And do you enjoy it? Are you good at it?"

"I do," Anna said confidently. "I enjoy the work itself, and I'd like to think I'm good at it."

"Of course," Matthew said quietly. He looked into the open door of Barrow's office before they passed it. "I wouldn't have mentioned her to you if I wasn't sure of her abilities."

They stepped out into the lobby. Anna stopped just inside the vestibule and squinted at the two of them. "Why does this feel like an interview?" she asked suspiciously.

Mary only smiled and took Matthew's elbow to steer him in the opposite direction that Anna was headed. "Don't think anything of it. It was very nice to meet you, Miss Smith," she said, extending her hand again. "I hope to see you again soon." She linked her arm in his and walked him to her luxury sedan parked out front.

Anna stared after them for a few moments. "Really then," she whispered to herself. "That was interesting."

**III.**

"Daisy Mason, where in God's name is that order?" a voice shrieked from the kitchen.

Anna cringed and gave her server a sympathetic glance. The poor girl just shrugged it off and smiled back. "It's nothing," she said with a little lisp in her voice. "Pat's all bark and no bite. Can I get you some more tea?"

"Yes, please," Anna said as she moved her cup over for a refill. She'd come to the small little cafe near the bridge for what she'd hoped would be a quiet dinner. Instead, the constant berating of the staff from the owner was beginning to grind on her ears. She'd seen the place during her walk on Saturday, not remembering it when she frequented this part of town years ago, and decided to pop in for a bite. Despite the chaos, she was actually quite impressed with the menu and the chicken salad she'd just finished was to die for.

She was just about to settle the check when a soft voice called her name. "Miss Smith? Anna Smith?"

Anna paused mid sip and looked up in surprise. John Bates was looming over her, bent slightly at the waist and smiling broadly at her. She swallowed her tea quickly and stood up to greet him. "Mister Bates," she said, a bit taken aback. "It's so nice to see you again."

He held his hands to motion her to sit back down. "Oh, please don't get up for me. That sort of thing died out with George V, as I recall."

Anna looked sideways and chuckled. "Were you coming or going? Would you like to join me for a few minutes?"

John considered it for a moment before he pivoted into the opposite seat with a sigh, folding his wool jacket into his lap. "Thank you. It appears I have a few minutes. I'd called in a take out order, but it seems someone didn't tell the cook."

"Oh dear," Anna said apprehensively. "I wonder if that's what the she was screaming about a moment ago."

"I've found that Pat the cook screams about a great deal of things," he said with a smile, leaning forward with his elbows on the table and his hand under his chin. He wore a black mock turtleneck under a black sweater, which made him look a little bit...dangerous? Certainly mysterious. He had a day's worth of stubble growth, which gave him a slightly rugged appearance.

Anna tore her eyes away her increasingly awkward examination of his facial structure. She cleared her throat and ran one finger around the rim of her teacup. "You come here often then?" she asked.

"At least twice a week since I moved here. The chicken salad…"

"Is _amazing_," she gushed ravenously.

John chuckled and nodded his head in agreement. "The little bits of apple and cranberry," he added.

"Sweetness in unexpected places," Anna said.

John said nothing, his smile only broadening as he looked away from her quickly and out the window. He wasn't really focusing on anything that she could tell, just gazing outward and not at her. He seemed at a loss for words.

Anna pursed her lips together as she suddenly felt the need to change the course of their conversation. "Look, I'm actually glad to run into you here. I know I said I'd come to the church yesterday…" she apologized.

John shook his head to put her off, shifting forward a bit to sit on the edge of his seat. "No, it's fine. I'm sure you weren't feeling up to it."

_Isn't that the truth,_ Anna thought.

"How have you been?" he continued. He leaned back, shifting his weight again, this time to lounge more comfortably in the low backed chair. "I hope you don't think it's untoward, but I thought about you quite a bit that night and yesterday. I was wondering how you were." He frowned as he rubbed his knee with one hand.

Anna felt a little blush creep up, her ears burning. She was thankful she'd worn her hair down that day. "I'm doing well, I suppose," she admitted. "Better than I thought I would be. I have a good friend who's helped distract me some, and I went back to work today."

"That's good. What sort of work do you do?" John asked as the server, Daisy, set a cup of tea in front of him. She silently nodded at Anna, who nodded back to the girl that she wanted another refill herself.

Anna folded her arms on the table and cocked her head to the side. "Interestingly, this is the second time I've answered this today," she mused. "I work for a law firm as a researcher. O'Brien, Swire, Barrow and Swire."

"I've seen the advertisements," John said with raised brows. "Sour looking woman, pinch faced young fellow, old chap who looks like he's about to kick off and a young girl who can't be more than fifteen?"

Anna laughed out loud and John smiled back. "She's twenty-nine, but you've got the description of the rest down fairly well. I work specifically for Miss Swire and the newest solicitor. He's not a partner yet. He's still under his probationary period with the firm. Likely won't make partner," she said with a roll of her eyes.

"Do you like it? I wouldn't have thought you the ambulance chasing type."

"I do enjoy the work, but not the ambulance chasing," Anna admitted. "It's tedious sometimes, and my eyes are beginning to hate me for it, but I get a genuine feeling of accomplishment when I'm able to find some fact or crumb of information that will help the clients win in the end, no matter how absurd their case is. It's not precisely what I want to do, but I get by with it." She cleared her throat and smiled slightly. "So what sort of work do you do? When you're not handing out tissues to bereaved women at churches, I mean."

"Actually, I'm doing nothing at the time." He said after a moment. "I guess one say that I'm sort of...between jobs."

"Oh dear," Anna remarked. He certainly didn't look like he was strapped for funds, with his smart sweater and crisp wool jacket. Perhaps he was living off a savings of some sort. He didn't scream money, but he certainly wasn't lacking for it that she could tell.

John stirred a dollop of honey into his tea and took a heavy sip before continuing. He waved his hand to change the subject. "Anyway, I hope you don't mind that I came over. I saw you sitting here all alone, and just wanted to make sure you're feeling better. And that you knew that you're not alone."

She considered him for a moment before sighing. "I feel different since she passed. But different isn't necessarily better," Anna smiled sadly. "It really, really hurts. But I thank you for asking. Everybody seems to ask me how I am, and most of them only half listen anyway. I don't really want to talk about it anymore. Not for a while, at least. I'm not ready."

"I understand," John said sympathetically.

"Sometimes, you just have to _know_ that it will be better," she rambled on. "It's just something that I have to hold onto. It's nice to have something to believe, you know? I'll just take it day by day."

A smiled pulled his lips upward. "I know exactly what you mean," he said softly.

Anna played with her napkin as she fell into silence looking out the window onto the street. She drummed her nails on the table, opening and shutting her mouth several times before speaking. "Is...is that invitation to Sunday services still open?" she said in a small voice. "I think I could use a little pickup after such a dreadful week. It's been years since I've been and I sort of miss parts of it. Maybe some structure would do me well."

"The invitation is always open," he answered, his face brightening. "I won't hold you to it though. You should always feel welcome there, but not pressured. And feel comfort, of course." He paused as something shifted in his eyes, then was lost when he smiled again. "I can guarantee a full house this week."

Daisy reappeared to deliver his takeout box along with Anna's credit slip. They busied themselves with their respective bills before Anna glanced at her watch. "Well," she said, ducking her head as she put her wallet back into her purse. She looked up at him with a warm smile. "It was lovely to see you again, Mister Bates. I'd best be getting home. Moe will be expecting his dinner soon and I can't keep him waiting. He's liable to throw a fit and tear my flat up."

"Please tell me Moe isn't some fellow with a bad temper," he seemed genuinely amused, but still slightly worried about her.

"Cat," she admitted with a roll of her eyes. "Moses. Belonged to an ex, and when he moved out, he left his mean old cat with me. I don't even like him, and he reminds me of my ex far too much sometimes, but I do have a soft spot for animals. Even a mean old cuss like Moe, with his bad leg and worse temper."

John snorted at this. Anna stood up and reached for her coat behind her, just as John stood up to take it from her hands. He shook it out and nodded for her to turn so he could help her into it. A gentleman indeed. "Nothing wrong with an old cat with a bad leg and a temper," he said softly. "Anyway, the lady waiting for me at home takes up entirely too much of the bed and is eating me out of house and home. Her name is Lacy." His hands lingered over her shoulders as he settled her coat over her frame. He plucked a spot of lint off and tucked her hair behind her shoulder, sending a shiver down her spine.

"Dog?" she almost squeaked.

"_Big_ dog."

Anna laughed and tucked her hair behind her ear, ducking her head shyly. In her comfortable flats, he was quite a bit taller than she was, and he slouched a bit to the side as he looked down at her. She had to take a reluctant step backward so she could look up at him without bending her neck at an awkward angle. "So, I'll see you again?" she asked hopefully.

"Sunday, if not sooner," John replied, his eyes sparkling as he offered his hand. "Until then, Miss Smith."

She held onto his hand for a little longer than she'd intended, his hand warm and so much larger than hers. She looked down at their joined hands. "You _can_ call me Anna, you know."

"And you can call me John. But I _do_ like the way you say _Mister Bates_. Take care, Anna."

"You too, Mister Bates," she said, drawing out the vowels slightly. His eyes crinkled and his cheek smirked upward. Anna spun on her heels and walked out of the cafe and into the night, throwing a smile over her shoulder.


	4. Chapter 4

He had been having a rather pleasant dream until he smelled the unmistakable bouquet of dog breath. The humid waves of it in his face might as well have been a glass of ice water, for all the shock it gave him.

John groaned and pulled his pillow over his head, peeking out a few seconds later to see Lacy, his six year old Newfoundland, staring at him over the edge of his bed. He glanced at the red glow of the alarm clock.

"Chantilly Lace, it is four thirty-seven," he groused at her. "My alarm is set for five. You have to learn how to tell time, girl."

Lacy just sat back on her haunches and cocked her head to the side.

"And I need to get up because I suppose you'll be wanting to go out?" he acquiesced.

At the mention of the word _out_, Lacy barked loudly, dancing about on huge paws in excitement. John sighed as swung his legs out over the floor, then carefully attached the stabilizing brace over his right knee. He stood up, holding onto the bedpost and taking a moment to be sure he was properly balanced before taking a single step. He'd made the mistake too many times of thinking he had control of the infernal thing and ending up on the floor instead.

John ran his fingers through his hair and yawned, blinking in the darkness of the early morning. He grabbed his robe from the back of the bedroom door and stumbled down the hallway of the small house, running his hand along the walls in the darkness as he was still a bit unfamiliar with the layout. It was a nice little house, if old and a bit drafty. It also wasn't exactly what he'd been hoping for when he moved to the city, but it would serve his purposes well enough. He firmly believed in the old adage that beggars could not be choosers.

As Lacy busied herself in the back garden, he went ahead and flipped on his coffee maker, eager to enjoy the one vice he had left. He'd have his tea later, but for now, he needed the bitter, hot burn and musky aroma of his favorite Ethiopian blend to get his brain functioning properly. The sun wouldn't be up for at least another two hours, but his day always officially began at sunrise, sometimes earlier, no matter what time of the year. It would do him no good to try to go back to bed as he would only lay there thinking anyway.

He scooped a heaping mound of food into Lacy's bowl and opened the door for her to come back inside, the big dog happily lumbering into the kitchen for her breakfast. The morning paper wouldn't be here for a while yet, so he headed back to the front of the house and into the small living room. He sat down heavily on the couch, pulling the blanket he kept on the back of it over his legs. He didn't bother to turn on the television, as the house didn't have cable service. It was a distraction, he'd been told. They couldn't expect him to live on the two fuzzy channels the set top antenna got him. It was downright inhumane.

So he sat there in the dark, listening to the occasional vehicle passing by, barking dog, and distant siren. And naturally his thoughts turned to his dream, the one he'd been enjoying before he'd been so unceremoniously awakened. He'd dreamed of long blonde hair and cheerful blue eyes, and a smile that betrayed the sadness she'd shown him. The latter part of the dream had been bordering on the improper, and he knew he'd have to throw an extra prayer up today for his thoughts. Of all of the distractions he could possibly have at the moment, Anna Smith was the most dangerous. And the most tempting.

But still, he couldn't help but think about her. She was beautiful in a very refreshing way, not reliant on makeup or putting on airs. She had an easy smile once she opened up, and he had most definitely noticed the blush on her cheeks that bloomed several times the other day at the cafe. She seemed interested in him, and he was very interested in her, but then it could just be simple politeness on her part that he was mistaking for romantic sentiment. Either way, he wasn't exactly in a position in his life to entertain such thoughts, no matter how pretty the woman or intoxicating the smile.

Two cups of coffee and a long shower later, he stood in front of his open wardrobe, thumbing through the hangars. "What do you say, Lace?" he asked the dog sitting attentively beside him. "Should it be the black one today?" He held one button down shirt up to his chest, then another. "Or the other black one? It's an important day, you know. Have to look sharp."

Lacy snorted and yawned, then walked away to crash on her bed in the corners, sighing heavily as she closed her eyes.

"The black one then," he decided. "Good thing your hair blends with it, or else I'd look like I'm wearing a fur coat all day. I don't know what I would have done if they'd handed me, I don't know, a white poodle or a retriever." He stopped a moment to consider her and all of the comfort she'd brought him ever since his counselor had deposited a tiny little ball of black fluff into his arms and said he needed a friend. She'd been the runt of the litter, the one that wasn't supposed to flourish without individual attention, the one that was supposed to stay small and dainty. A hundred and thirty pounds later, she had become quite literally his main reason to get up every morning. And when he'd had nightmares or the stress had gotten too much for him to take, when the pain was too much to bear, when it even felt like his faith had deserted him, all it took was a gently nudge with her wet nose or a heavy paw on his leg to help shake off his despair.

He made quick work of putting on his shirt and slacks, then slipping on his most comfortable pair of serviceable black dress shoes. He bent down to scratch Lacy behind her ears once, turned out the light, and grabbed the worn leather-bound book from atop his dresser. He gave himself a once-over in the long mirror on the back of the door, adjusted his collar, and smoothed his hair into place.

Today was the most important day in his life.

**II.**

It was a crisp, sunny autumn morning, and Anna felt braced by the cool breeze that ruffled her hair and stirred her skirt as she walked from her car to the church. A few other people were making their way into the courtyard at the same time as her, and they greeted each other politely. She waved as she recognized the same man who had admitted her last week and he smiled brightly in return, this time clumsily dripping gold paint onto the cobbles.

She bit back a grin and walked up the long path, following after a large group of worshippers as they filed inside. She paid a bit more attention to the church this time, taking in the delicate architecture and stained glass windows in the transoms. She remembered her parents bringing her and Emily here a few times when they were young, but never again after her father's death. It appeared the church needed some repair work, as she could clearly see water stains in a few places on the walls.

A dark-haired woman greeted her just inside the door. "Welcome to Downton Abbey," she said in a soft voice. "Are you a new member?"

"Uh, yes," Anna stammered. "I was invited by a friend." She scanned the few dozen people already seated inside.

"Oh, that's wonderful," the older woman replied with a smile. "Here's a plan for today's services, with the order of ceremony and words to the hymns," she said as she pressed a folded piece of paper into Anna's hands. "And if you don't mind, could you sign the new visitor book over here?" She indicated a notebook on a small stand beside her. As Anna scrawled her name and address, as many others had apparently already done that day, the woman introduced herself. "My name is Phyllis, and if there's anything you need, please feel free to ask. We're ever so glad you could join us."

"Thank you," Anna murmured as she finished and continued into the church. There were about twenty odd long pews on each side, and she picked a spot about halfway from the front, sliding past an older couple and sitting toward the outside end. The church was about halfway full now, with more people trickling in as the time to begin the services approached.

She craned her neck to look around the nave for John, hoping he would seek her out as well. She was rather surprised to see Mary Crawley and another dark haired young woman walk down the aisle together, taking their seats all the way in the front row of the church. Anna guessed they were sisters, being of a similar build and colouring. They smiled and talked politely with an elderly woman in a garish purple hat already seated there. Mary never looked in Anna's direction, and she was somewhat glad of that. She didn't know what she felt about the other woman, given their strange conversation the other day.

Every time a dark haired man walked by, Anna's heart jumped a little and she chided herself at how silly she was being. She was acting like a teenager hoping to run into her crush between school bells. He was a polite man, handsome and considerate, with eyes that swallowed her within their hues, which she hadn't decided if they were green or brown as of yet. He'd made it a point to let her know that he was unattached, which she took as a good sign. But she really knew nothing else about him besides that he carried a packet of tissue everywhere he went, he owned a dog, and that he was new in town. She'd told him far more about her life than he'd let her know himself.

She came to realize as she waited that her attraction to him was probably a part of the grief process. She craved companionship, and he was the nicest option she'd had in years.

Anna tapped her feet and glanced at her watch impatiently. She'd already shooed off a few people asking if the seat beside her were taken, and the church was getting more packed by the minute. It was almost as if every person on this side of town were there, a few clusters of them smiling and shaking hands and engaging in very quiet, whispered conversations. For the most part, they were silent, some praying in the pews before the service began, others visiting the altar. Finally, she couldn't save the spot any longer and smiled politely at the young family who squeezed in beside her, forcing her to slide all the way to the end of the pew.

The choir took their place up front, then the organist, and everyone stood up, scraping their feet loudly on the worn stone floor. A soloist began singing a traditional hymn, which Anna vaguely remembered bits of from her childhood. She didn't bother trying to read along with the photocopied bulletin Phyllis had given her, having not even given it a glance since she'd received it. She just moved her lips in a vague approximation of what she remembered the words to be. She tried not to look too obvious as she scanned the crowd around her for John and sighed when she still couldn't spot him above the sea of heads and hats. Sometimes she really hated being short, just as she felt as she stared ruefully into the broad back of the tall man in front of her.

"Are you looking for someone?" the woman beside her whispered at the end of the hymn. "You've been popping up like one of those meerkat things the whole time."

"Just a friend who invited me here," Anna said, embarrassed. "John Bates. Do you know him?"

The woman only smiled and nodded as the organist began the opening bars of the next hymn. After the second piece, the entire congregation sat down and she glanced around again. Worry began morphing into bitter disappointment, and then acceptance as she realized that he probably wasn't truly interested in her anyway. He was a nice enough fellow, but really, who tries to pick up a woman by inviting her to church anyway? Besides, she didn't think she could stand to hitch herself to some overly religious pilgrim trying to convert her to gain points with his God. She decided that she would finish the services, cut her losses, and be on with her life. She would lose nothing besides a few lovely hours on a Sunday morning and a little bit of her dignity.

Finally, the elderly priest emerged from one of the side chapels, to thunderous applause from the congregation. He smiled and raised his hands in benediction, then motioned for them to retake their seats.

"Friends and family," he began, his voice strong, thanks to the perfect acoustics of the room. "I see quite a few new faces here with us today, as well as some here whom I haven't seen in quite some time. I'd like to welcome all of you to Downton Abbey. It's good to be amongst friends."

Anna crossed her legs and sat back in the slightly uncomfortable old pew. He had a nice enough voice, not boring like the old priest she remembered from her childhood visits. Father Gantry went on to give a brief history of the church. It had been part of a larger complex when it was built in the fourteenth century, being the smaller offshoot of the larger cathedral across town near Anna's flat. The original Downton Abbey had been the monastery on the grounds until the 1700s, when a fire gutted the residences. They then lay vacant for over a century before being torn down. Most of the old stones had been carted off to build new buildings in the city, leaving just the smaller church and outbuildings, surrounding gardens, and cemetery. The small church had actually been abandoned in the late-1800s, then restored and reconsecrated by the Church of England after the Second Great War.

Father Gantry went on to thank the parishioners for their support, spoke a bit of God, Queen, and Country, led them in another two hymns, and finally began drawing to a close. "Finally, my dear friends and family," he said, his voice wavering slightly as he slowly took in the congregation, "my time here with you has drawn to a close. It is time to begin a new chapter here at Downton, to bring us into the twenty-first century and beyond. I hope you'll join me in welcoming your new vicar..."

Anna didn't catch the new vicar's name as loud applause drowned Gantry's words out. People stood up from the front of the church in a wave all the way to the back. Anna stretched on her toes to peer through the sea of people, the tall man in front of her blocking her view again. She saw a hand waving from the pulpit above the crowd, then Father Gantry moved off to the side to allow the new vicar to speak.

As everyone took their seats again, Anna remained frozen in place, a single tree in the middle of a grassland.

And as she locked eyes with The Reverend John Bates from across the church, her heart crumbled a bit inside.


	5. Chapter 5

_**A/N: **I'd like to thank everyone for reading and following along. This is my first foray into the DA fic world after spending years in and writing for the BSG fandom, and everyone has been very inviting. Thanks!_

_(Also, bear in mind, I'm a non-religious person writing a religiously themed story, and an American trying to write Brits. Any misspellings of colour or aluminium or the like are entirely the fault of the American Revolution.)_

* * *

**I.**

John bounced his leg nervously as he sat in the private chapel off to the side of the main nave of the church, waiting for Father Gantry to finish his farewell sermon. He kept it short and relatively free from his own proselytizing, instead leaving that to John afterward. He told the story of the church and its rich history and thanked everyone for their support over the two decades he'd been there. At that cue, John braced himself on the small table beside him and stood up, giving his leg a quick tap as a reminder to behave itself.

He'd been watching Anna most of the time inside the chapel through a crack in the door. In fact, he'd been watching her pretty much nonstop since she'd come into the church and found her place. Father Gantry had been lecturing him on the importance of the church in the community when he stopped and tapped John on the arm. "You listening, brother John?" he'd asked.

John shook the thoughts of Anna from his head and smiled with tightly pressed lips. "Of course, Reverend. I drifted for just a moment. Thought I saw someone I knew out there."

"Well, you'll know them all soon enough," he grunted as he pulled himself up and stood in the chapel door, waiting for the hymn to finish. "I'll introduce you, and then you'll come out."

"Very dramatic," John smiled back at him. "Should have rigged lights and a fog machine as well." At Gantry's confused frown, John shook his head. "It was a joke, sir."

The older man only grunted as he stepped out of the chapel and out into the nave. John stopped the door from closing all the way and found Anna again in the standing room only crowd. She sat all the way on the opposite side of the church from him, at the end of the pew. She had her hair pulled back from her face with a few pieces falling softly forward around her ears. She'd removed her jacket and was wearing a simple lavender sheath dress. Amongst a field of mostly conservative greys, blues, and browns, she was a flower in bloom.

_Stop it, John_.

She was looking for him, he'd convinced himself. She craned her neck as high as her little body could let her and looked around the church every few minutes. Each time, she would return to facing forward, then glance down at her hands for several moments. Occasionally a frown would flicker across her face or a heavy sigh would droop her shoulders. He began to feel crushing guilt that he may have led her on, giving her something to cling to other than his offer of a sympathetic ear. He really shouldn't encourage her to want more than that, not from him.

On the one hand, he was a pastor trying to offer guidance, whether emotional or spiritual, to a distressed woman. On the other…

John sighed and asked for quick forgiveness for the lust in his heart. He knew he had to tamp down his baser urges and devote himself fully to his calling. He'd worked so hard to prove himself worthy, to convince the diocese that he was the right man for the job, not to mention the church board of Downton itself. His past sins were behind him, and he didn't need to add to his list of flaws at the Pearly Gates.

And now, as Father Gantry was wrapping up his history lesson, John smoothed his crisp white vestments one last time. He stepped out into the church proper to thunderous applause. Most of the congregation was already on its feet, and the rest halfway there. Father Gantry held out his hand to usher John to the pulpit before stepping aside. John smiled nervously at the crowd as the room suddenly closed in on him and tunnel vision narrowed his gaze. A low roar filled his ears as he bit back a trace of nausea. He was suddenly in a hot, brown desert town, with the sun beating down on him and screams echoing in his ears. He blinked back the unbidden vision until the church returned to focus. Not a single face stood out to him at all, and he raised one hand both to acknowledge them and ask them to take their seats.

Anna suddenly appeared in the center of his line of sight. It was hard not to, being as she remained on her feet a good five seconds after everyone else around her had been seated. Her expression quickly shifted from confusion, to shock, then disappointment, and finally...anger? And now amusement? All in the span of a few seconds.

John made sure his own face didn't betray his distraction. This wasn't how he'd pictured his first day at the pulpit when he'd arrived at Downton three weeks prior. He should have begun his sermon already, and instead he had lost himself in a woman he barely knew. Every doubt he'd had since he arrived suddenly flooded back. He finally had his own church, his own flock to lead, and he could hardly understand how his tortured life had lead him to this place, to this moment. Why had he been chosen for this task?

"_It's nice to have something to believe, you know?"_ Anna's words came back to him on a breeze in his mind.

He forced himself to take a deep breath, the congregation waiting patiently for him to begin speaking. The energy in the air was electric. He sought Anna's eyes again and smiled.

"_Believe," _he heard her voice echo again in his mind, that one word ringing louder than church bells.

He curled his fingers around the sides of the pulpit and smiled. "Good morning to you all," John began, his voice much stronger and clearer than he thought it would be, honestly, as it echoed around the church, aided by the microphone in front of him. "I keep pinching myself, thinking that I cannot possibly be so blessed as to be here with you. Last night, as I went to sleep, I asked God why he chose me for this task, and I'll be honest, I heard no answer."

A few little twitters from the crowd rose up in the air before he continued. "And when I watched the sun come up this morning, and felt its first rays on my face, I asked again. '_Why have I been chosen for this task? Why have You put so much faith in me?' _And again, I got no answer." He looked directly at Anna, whose lips were parted slightly, a frown creasing her brow. "So just now, as you were welcoming me, I asked again. And this time, an angel came into my heart and said but one word. _Believe._"

Many in the vaulted nave nodded and murmured their approval. He looked around the church, meeting the eyes of many of his new congregatiojn, then back to Anna, whose open face had the slightest trace of a smile. "Believe in yourself. Believe in each other. Believe there is good in the world. Believe in love. Believe that things will be better. Believe that you have a purpose on this earth, in this life. But most of all, believe that no matter how bad it seems, when grief and despair grip your heart, believe that you are _never_ alone."

* * *

**II.**

He was _good._

He was so good, she almost forgot that she wanted to leave before he inevitably caught up with her after the final prayer. He'd spent the whole sermon talking about faith giving strength in troubling times. He seemed to have the gift of turning a speech to an entire audience into a specifically tailored message for one person. The fact that he kept glancing at her, meeting her eyes with a confident smile several times, made her alternately blush and feel at unease.

Anna stood amongst the jubilant crowd of worshippers, unable to make her way out of the church. He'd spoken in a way that made her heart swell, which no man of God had ever done for her. His words touched her deeply and she felt herself caught up in the rich sound of his voice, his tongue slipping into an Irish lilt one moment, and a Scottish brogue the next. It was a dangerous combination that made her forget how _angry_ she had been. She watched his elegant hands, taking in his long fingers as he weaved his words in the air like a magician. She stopped herself the moment other thoughts of what those hands were capable of crept into her mind.

A path finally cleared to her right, and she tried to pluck her way between people, heading toward the back of the church and the freedom of the courtyard outside. She managed to get ten steps closer, then felt a hand on her upper arm.

"Anna…"

She gasped loudly in the din of the mass of people. She froze in place, with conflicting impulses of fight or flight warring within her. Finally, she plastered on a smile and turned around to see _Father _John Bates waiting expectantly, his white vestments unbelievably bright in the sunlight streaming in from the high windows.

"Lovely sermon, Father," she forced out. "Very lovely."

He smiled, though he seemed to be reining it in quite a bit. It didn't have the same shine that she had seen before. "Thank you, Miss Smith," he said, folding his hands in front of him. "I just wanted to come over and tell you how glad I am that you came today."

A parishioner butted between them to shake John's hand vigorously, and Anna took that opportunity to slip away, disappearing into the crowd before he could catch her again.

"Anna!" she heard him call from behind her.

She practically ran out of the church. When she passed the caretaker out front, he was just finishing repainting the church sign with bright gold letters.

_Historic Downton Abbey_

_Est. 1374_

_Visitors Welcome & Encouraged_

_Open Daily - Sunday Services 9am_

_Reverend John P. Bates_

* * *

**III.**

Her laughter echoed in the shower, bouncing off the tile walls of her bathroom before being swallowed up by the hottest water she could stand.

It was the most absurd thing she could possibly have thought of. That she missed all of the signs was beside the point, but that she had found herself fancying a bloody _priest_ was downright outrageous_._ Granted, he wasn't a Catholic priest, but he may as well be. He had all of the trappings of one - the robe, the stole, the cross, and collar. Anglican or not, she had a visceral reaction to the notion of any dalliance with a man of the cloth.

The hot water ran out before her inner turmoil did. She shivered as she toweled off, scrubbing at her skin vigorously, paying special attention to her upper arm, where his touch had seared her. She swore she could still feel the warmth of his fingers from where he'd gently grabbed her at the church. She slipped on her robe and emerged from the wall of steam in her bathroom and smack into Gwen, who stared at her like a deer in the headlights.

"Jesus, Gwen!" Anna startled, clutching her robe around her tightly. "What on earth are you doing here?"

Gwen just frowned and laid her hand across Anna's forehead. "You're not feverish, so what the hell was all that laughing about? You gone mad?"

Anna stomped into her bedroom and shut the door. "You know," she shouted over her shoulder and through the door as she dropped her robe and dug for clothes in her dresser. "I should probably get that key back from you." She threw an old t-shirt and jeans on over fresh undergarments. "You use it far too often."

"I have copies," Gwen replied. She sounded like she'd moved into the kitchen, her favorite place to snoop.

Anna slammed her bedroom door open and followed Gwen into the kitchen, where she grabbed two wine glasses and the bottle of wine she had in the back of her refrigerator. She poured a very full glass for herself, drained half of it, and poured some more before adding some to Gwen's glass.

"Crikey, Anna," Gwen exclaimed. "It's half eleven."

Anna said nothing, simply grabbed her glass and the bottle and went into the living room. She was a firm believer in keeping red wine out of that room because of her light colored furniture and carpeting, but damn the consequences. She sat down on the couch, displacing Moe and earning a half-hearted hiss from him. "Sod off," she muttered at the cat.

"Is this one of those stages of grief things they talk about?" Gwen asked as she sat carefully in the chair opposite her. "Denial, acceptance, maniacal laughter, alcoholism, being nasty to the cat…"

"I've had the worst morning." Anna stopped and frowned, taking a sip. She frowned. "No, I won't say the worst. Just...strange. Hilariously strange."

"Go on."

Anna groaned and set the glass down on the side table. "You have to promise not to laugh," she warned Gwen.

"Now you've got me on tenterhooks," Gwen said in mock breathlessness.

"Promise!" Anna insisted.

Gwen made a cross over her heart and took a swig of wine. "Okay. Promise. Tell me." Her eyes were wide with anticipation.

Anna licked her lips. "That day I picked up Mum's ashes," she said slowly, her eyes drifting up to the urn on the mantle. "I met someone."

"At the party?" she frowned, looking as if she was trying to remember a single moment where she hadn't been clinging to Anna.

She shook her head. "No, no. Before that. When I was carrying Mum's ashes around town in a fog. I met someone at the church my parents were married at."

"And this someone was...a man?" Gwen offered hopefully.

Anna nodded as she bit her lip. Gwen beamed at her and waved her hands. "Go on," she said excitedly.

"Well, he was a nice man, very nice. We bumped into each other again a few days after, and I sort of took a shine to him," she said with a grimace, her face getting hotter. "And I thought he liked me too."

Gwen blinked in confusion. "And? Does he have horns and a tail or something? What's the problem?"

The irony. "Quite the opposite. He invited me to his church this morning, and I figured it was because he was interested in me." Anna took a deep breath and puffed out her cheeks. "When in fact, I think he just wants a new sheep in his flock." She paused and swallowed hard. "Turns out he's the new priest at the church," she said in a rush. It sounded worse now that she said it out loud.

"Feck what?"

Anna screwed her face tightly, seeing stars in the blackness of her scrunched eyelids. "He's the new priest at the church my parents were married at." She groaned again and buried her face in her hands.

She heard nothing, not a cackle or word from Gwen, until a wheezing sound made her peek from between her fingers. Gwen was red-faced and laughing silently, little peeps of air the only sound she was making. She finally took a shuddering breath with tears rolling down her face and finally barked out a full bellied laugh.

"You_ promised,_" Anna scolded her. "Oh my god."

"Shh, don't say that," Gwen admonished with a wag of her finger. "Jesus doesn't like it when you call on his da like that." She threw her hand in the air, waving it around frantically. "Just your luck, you fancy a man who's taken a vow of celibacy. You're a naughty girl, Anna May Smith." She giggled, pressing her fist to her mouth. "Ooh, this is like _The Thorn Birds!_"

"Oh shut it," Anna said. "And he's Church of England, not Catholic. There's a world of difference."

"So it's not _quite_ like the _The Thorn Birds,_" Gwen chortled. She drained the rest of her glass and poured another one for herself. "I've an uncle who's an Anglican priest, and he's married with three brats. So you can shag him," she said with a vicious grin. "Though it's not like the Pope didn't stop the two in _Thorn Birds _either."

"Shut up!" Anna yelped in horror. "No I can't! And who says I was thinking about shagging him?"

"Your face did."

Anna clapped her hands together around her nose and mouth. "Oh my god," she whined. "Why does he have to be a priest? Why can't he be a nice rubbish collector, or...or an accountant or a bookseller or something?"

"Forgive me father, for I have sinned," Gwen said in a little voice, clasping her hands together and looking upward in mock piety. "I've been having impure thoughts about you..."

The rest of her confession was cut off by the couch cushion that Anna threw at her head.

* * *

**IV.**

The entire day had been physically and emotionally exhausting. It was nearly dinnertime when John managed to slip out of Downton Abbey and make the short walk to the pastor's cottage on the grounds. He lost count of how many palms he pressed and names he had already forgotten. It would get better, with time, he'd been told repeatedly. Most everyone at the church seemed to be excited at the new chapter in their spiritual lives, and he was more than happy to oblige their enthusiasm.

Several women, some young enough to be his daughter and others older than his own mother, made not so subtle inquiries as to his marital status, which he had gotten better at deflecting as the day went on. Although his thumb had traced the inside of his bare ring finger unconsciously for the first time in years, he finally settled on the patented response of '_I am devoted to the Lord_.'

Lacy greeted him with a deep bark and swishing tail when he stepped through the back kitchen door. She collided with his left leg, and he was nearly knocked down by her hundred and thirty pounds of fluff and exuberance.

"Whoa, careful now," he chided. "Can't take that one out too." He bent down to give her a gentle slap on her shoulder. "Were you a good girl for Mister Molesley?"

He'd fretted over being gone from the cottage all day long, not even having a few minutes to slip over and give Lacy her outside time. But Joe Molesley, the church's facilities manager, had offered to take care of her for him, walking her a couple of blocks on a leash. His father Bill had been the groundskeeper for the church since before John himself was born, and he wasn't too fond of the idea of Lacy getting out of the cottage garden and as he said, _'recreating the London Blitz all over my hard work.' _John had to swear on his Bible and his mother's memory that Lacy wouldn't so much as _look_ at a flower, much less trample one.

John changed out of his formal black clothing and starched white collar and into a comfortable pair of jeans and a flannel shirt. It felt good to be out of uniform after such a long day. It was the same feeling he'd had after peeling off his kevlar and fatigues another lifetime ago. His armor was removed, and he was back to being John Bates, most tragically boring man in the world.

He had just put a kettle on the stove and a single serve meal into the microwave when he heard a soft knocking on the front door. His heart leapt hopefully. Could it be Anna? She'd disappeared from the church so quickly when he was distracted, leaving him with a sense of unexplainable loss and disappointment. He took the kettle off the burner and quickly went to open the door.

Instead of Anna, he was greeted with a beaming Rob Crawley, who immediately enveloped him in a bear hug.

"Bates, my good man!" he exclaimed. "How are you?"

John chuckled and embraced Rob just as fiercely. "Very well. Come on inside and get out of the chill," he replied, his hand beckoning his oldest friend inside the small foyer. Rob grinned from ear to ear and followed him in, giving Lacy a good thumping on her haunches as she milled about them excitedly. John took his friend's coat and hung it up on a peg beside the door. "I was just about to make some tea. Would you like to join in?"

"I'd love to," Rob said as he looked around the cottage. His face tightened as he took in the stains on the ceiling, flooring that needed replacing, and walls that hadn't seen new paint in decades. "We're going to have to get some work done on this thing, aren't we?"

John shrugged and led him to the back and the kitchen. "It suits me well," he admitted. "A bit cold at night. Telly only gets two channels, and none of them carry Manchester." He put the kettle back on just as the microwave dinged.

"Oh, that just won't do," Rob said with a frown. "I'll call and have the cable company out here this week. I'm keeping you from your dinner, aren't I?"

"No," John reassured him. "The good thing about microwave dinners is that they can be microwaved again."

"You need a nice woman to cook for you, that's what you need."

"I've been cooking for myself since secondary school. I don't need a woman for that. Else I'd have starved by now."

"True. It's a wonder Vera never killed you with her cooking as it was," Rob recounted. At the mention of Vera's name, John's back stiffened slightly. Rob quickly apologized. "Sorry, I wasn't thinking."

John smiled slightly and shook his head. "Pavlovian response to unpleasant stimuli," he quipped to set Rob back at ease. "It's fine. Honestly." He stirred his preferred dollop of honey into his tea. He would need it after talking so long today without a break.

Rob sighed heavily as John poured a cup of tea for him. "You haven't heard from her recently, have you?" he asked carefully.

"No I haven't. It's been...seven years I suppose? Almost eight? The last time I actually _saw_ her was at the hospital. And you know that she called me a few times after to apologize and try to patch things up, but I'd already moved on in my head. That was the last of it for me." He stopped and smiled slightly. "I saw Nigel a few months ago when I was down near London for my curacy. He's growing like a weed. He'll be up here for a football invitational in March. He's asked me to come cheer him on. Keeps begging me to play with him."

"Nigel's a good lad," Rob grunted, "and it's a shame he has Vera for a mother. He deserves better."

"He has better," John said, a smile pulling one side of his face upward. "Despite her."

"You should have done more than just walk away from her. You could have taken her for all she had and then some. I could have helped you with that."

"I wanted nothing from her other than to never see her again. It's in the past," he murmured quietly. "No need to dredge it up and make trouble for myself. Not now." Especially not now. He sighed and plastered on a weak smile. "I saw Mary and Sybil at the service this morning," he mentioned, eager to change the subject. "And your mother was very attentive. Not to mention demanding."

Rob rolled his eyes and grimaced. "Mama wants to make sure her money is being used as she sees it should be. She wanted that other reverend from Cardiff, you know. It took every ounce of persuasion I could dredge up to get her to throw her vote in the hat for you."

"I know," John said. "And I am grateful for it. I won't disappoint you. I promise."

"My dear fellow, you could never disappoint me," Rob said sincerely. "We go back long enough that I have no doubts in your character, no matter what life has thrown both of our ways." He looked around the worn down kitchen and sighed. "I'll talk to Carson about making sure some of the money goes toward fixing this place up. I can't believe old Gantry lived in it like this. Him or his wife."

"Mrs. Gantry is a lovely woman, but housekeeping was not one of her finer points," John admitted ruefully. "And he probably believes that prayer can fix anything, including cracked plumbing and peeling paint. Still, it was good of them to retire to their new home early so I could settle in. But I don't want a shilling of the foundation's money to go to making a palace for me. I'll manage on my own."

"Nonsense," Rob scoffed. "The terms of the endowment were for the modernization and historical preservation of the Abbey's grounds, which includes the parish house. Surely a few thousand pounds can be put toward getting you some proper heat and a decent refrigerator at the very least. How old is that dreadful thing anyway?"

John glanced at the avocado-hued elephant in the room, with its door that barely stayed on and unidentifiable smells within. "I think John the Baptist kept his holy water in it," he said with a smirk. At Rob's snort, he sighed heavily. "I wish you could have been there this morning. It was amazing."

"I wish I had been as well, my friend," Rob lamented around his cup of tea. "I've been wrapping things up in London all month, and I got home late last night. But of course, the agent for the building we're buying called late last night and said that we had to sign the final offer of purchase this morning. A Sunday of all times."

"So much for the Sabbath being a day of rest," John groused.

"Here, here."

"But, if he accepts the offer, and we sign this week," the other man continued, "we should be able to begin the renovations shortly thereafter, and hope to be in there by the first of the year."

"Do you think he'll take the offer?"

"Good God, I hope so. I've offered him a damned bloody king's ransom," Rob sighed, then gave John a guilty glance. "Sorry."

"Don't change for me," John chuckled. "I'm the one that's changed."

"And I'm still amazed every day that it happened. That after everything, this is where you've ended up."

"The Lord works in mysterious ways," John smiled warmly.


	6. Chapter 6

**I.**

Anna had tried to avoid having too many thoughts of John Bates in the days after she'd seen him in church. She busied herself with her work. She cleaned and organized her flat from top to bottom. Twice. She marathoned _Orphan Black_ and _Call the Midwife_ and found cover art for every single song in her iTunes library. Three Sundays came and went with her willfully and eagerly sleeping until almost noon, without the slightest inclination to get up and hear anything he had to say, whether it was to her or to a church full of people.

She tried to analyze her visceral reaction to his revelation several times. What was it that had made the butterflies in her stomach take a swan dive in that instant? One moment she had considered him a terrific fellow that she really wanted to get to know better. In the next, he was off limits.

He could date. He could be in a relationship with a woman. Or a man for that matter, whether the church approved of it or not, because Parliament had. He could marry and have children. He could have all of those things that any other man could, without reproach or restriction from his religion. In fact, they encouraged it.

But still, it bothered her, and she couldn't put her finger on why.

She'd finally managed to put all thoughts of him aside until the third Sunday after _that_ Sunday, when the morning paper hit the welcome mat outside her door. There, on the front page, was the blaring headline _**Downton's New Heart**_.

Her fingers traced the smooth texture of the paper, drawing slowly down the edge of the large photograph taking up two columns above the fold. It was a photo of John, in his white vestments, baptising a young child. His genuine smile was frozen in time, the wrinkles around his eyes speaking to the joy he obviously felt in the moment.

The photo accompanied a casual interview with John, including a few quotes from parishioners and workers at the church. Everyone seemed pleased that he had taken over at the church, one of them mentioning that they looked forward to having a younger priest to guide them in uncertain modern times. The article revealed that John was forty-nine years old, fifteen years older than her, which was less than the spread her own parents had at sixteen years apart. He was born in Derbyshire and moved often as a child since his father was in the military. Surprisingly, he himself spent a good amount of his life in Her Majesty's Army, following in his father's footsteps. He'd felt the calling of God late in life, after having several unspecified health and personal crises, and devoted his life from there on out to God and His works.

While all of it seemed very nice on paper, and would probably sound very noble and eloquent rolling off John's tongue, Anna couldn't shake the unease at the idea. Surely a man of God would be a very _good_ man, or at least he would profess to be. Perhaps it was the notion that no matter what he felt for a romantic partner, he would always put someone, or some_thing_ above all else. Above her.

Despite the calmness Anna had felt while sitting in the pews of Downton Abbey, she herself hadn't had a close relationship with God at any point in her life. Church was somewhere she went on Sundays just because she was expected to go. Anna's own crisis of faith began at the tender age of ten, when a grim-faced constable knocked on their door early on New Year's Day and her mother collapsed with a wail that she would never forget so long as she lived. Her mother cursed God for weeks and months on end, and she never took her or Emily back to church again. It had a profound effect on Anna's innocent childhood idea of God up until that point, and when her mother had died such a painful and emotionally agonizing death, she felt herself slip even further into the void.

Even still, she'd been drawn to Downton by something other than her memories. She wasn't prepared to say it was a divine hand, by any means. All she knew was that she felt a small sense of peace and clarity while inside the stone walls, the seas of turmoil in her calming ever so slightly. But she didn't feel the presence of God in her heart.

John may have been only looking out for her emotional well being. She never felt like he was trying to impose his faith on her. That was perhaps the reason why her mind never put the puzzle of him together, to show her that he was a man of the cloth. To her, he'd just been a kind soul offering his ear, and later on, an interested fellow offering friendship, possibly more.

As she looked again at the happy smile on his face in the photograph, she realized that she was afraid not of him, but what he represented. He was the emissary of something much bigger than both of them, which she couldn't begin to comprehend. And a man like him could never be with a woman who didn't share his faith in every way. It just wasn't done.

**II.**

For the third Sunday in a row, Anna hadn't returned to Downton.

John passed out communion bread and wine and blessed the faithful each Sunday, always hoping that the next person he would look up to find in the line would be her. He grew more disappointed with every little scrap of representative flesh and blood he gave out.

Everyone had left the church for the day, the last stragglers finally filing out around four in the afternoon. Some people apparently wanted to make a quick in-and-out chore of their church services, and others wanted it to be a daylong social event. He, along with Charles Carson, the church's treasurer and bookkeeper, ushered the last of a particularly chatty gaggle of women out of the nave, closing the doors behind them with a thud of finality.

"It's a strange thing," Carson said in his deep rumble as he locked the doors from the inside, "they never seemed to stay so long when Father Gantry presided over the church. Our Sundays ended much earlier than this."

John smiled and chuckled softly. "I think old widow Harper must have asked me three times if I was married. I think she was guessing she had a shot at me."

Carson stiffened, his eyebrows furrowing. John had to remind himself that Carson was one of the old traditionalists in the church, and he had been quite fond of Reverend Gantry and his almost Victorian sensibilities. "I don't know that it is necessarily proper to say such a thing in a house of Our Lord, Reverend," he admonished as he collected a few scattered bibles that weren't put back in their proper places behind the pews.

John sighed as he pulled the burgundy stole from around his neck. "Of course not. I'm just not used to so much attention, that's all," he admitted. "I spent so much time alone and in my studies at the seminary that being surrounded is a little overwhelming at times."

Carson smiled gently, his face softening. "You'll get used to it," he said somewhat sympathetically. "I do have to say that...certain ladies," he rolled his eyes, "seem to have taken a liking to you."

_Just not the one I'd like_, John thought.

"Sometimes I think Mrs. Hughes sings your praises more than she does the Lord's," Carson continued on sonorously as he continued to straighten up the church.

John had been most amused to watch the interaction between Carson and Elsie Hughes, the church organist and secretary. They were of a close age, around fifteen or twenty years older than John. Everyone called her Mrs. Hughes, when in fact she had never been officially married. She had lived in an unquestioned common law marriage with a man named Joe, who died about ten years prior of a heart attack. Mr. Carson had been married to Alice, gone seven years now, who by all accounts, was a lovely, lovely woman. Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes had a deep respect for each other, and a very stoic and pointedly platonic friendship. John couldn't help but notice the way his eyes followed her around the room, or the manner in which a patronizing but kind smile from her could bring him back from whatever soapbox he was standing on at the moment. God knew they adored each other, but neither was ready to take the first step.

John retired to his office and removed the rest of his vestments, hanging them on the back of the door in a garment bag, ready to go to the cleaners tomorrow. The collar came off next, a slight discomfort he hadn't completely gotten used to as yet, and he rubbed his neck seeking sweet relief. He sat down heavily in the worn leather chair behind his desk, stretching his legs out and sighing. His knee had long grown sore from supporting his weight today, and he reluctantly reached into his desk drawer to find the small bottle of over the counter acetaminophen he kept buried under some paperwork. He hated taking them, even on his most painful days, but at least they would take the edge off. He would never resort to anything stronger than that though, not anymore. He'd worked too hard to get where he was to be derailed by a few hundred milligrams of forbidden fruit. He looked at the two white pills in his palm for a few agonizing moments before dropping them back into the bottle, snapping the lid back on, and tossing it back in the drawer. He took a swig of water from the bottle on his desk and sighed.

A few curious people had asked him about the limp, and every time, he smiled gently and simply told them it was an old injury, and that he barely felt anything. The truth was, he didn't feel his leg at all. Not in a long time.

With a groan, John shifted his weight and pulled his right pants leg up. He released the brace around his knee and lower thigh, letting the titanium prosthetic that had replaced his calf and foot slide to the floor with a dull thud. The relief was sweeter than any drug or drink could ever bring him.

**III.**

Anna regarded the man in front of her with a forced interested expression, even though she could smell bullshit all over him. She only wished her instincts had been on track before, when she met John Bates and before she knew he was a priest only out to save her mortal soul.

"So then," the man said far too animatedly for a fellow claiming a broken neck, "the manager says that I should have been watching where I was going, that I should've seen a shattered jar of marinara on a white floor. And I tell him, _'well it's your arse for not mopping it up, and I'm gonna to find me a lawyer.'_"

Matthew sighed beside her. "But you obviously _saw_ the sauce on the floor of the grocer," he said slowly, as if reasoning with a child.

"Well...yes."

"And the store has very clear, _colour_ CC footage of you looking at that bright red sauce on the white floor, looking all about, and then smearing your foot in the sauce before slowly lying down in it and thrashing around dramatically."

"I slipped and fell," the man argued.

"No, you didn't," Matthew insisted.

Lester Post's eyes widened indignantly. "Are you calling me a liar?" he spat, standing up suddenly. Despite the neck and back brace he was sporting, he showed an amazing range of motion as he made a vulgar gesture with his hand.

"No, but the judge will," Anna answered shortly, her irritation finally getting the better of her good nature. "The evidence doesn't go in your favor, Mister Post."

Post flashed a dark look at her. "You shut your mouth, _girl. _I'm not here to talk to some _secretary_, I'm here to talk to a lawyer!"

Matthew stood up and put his hand out to keep Anna from launching out of her own seat. "Don't be nasty. Look, she sees it as well as I, which is the same as a judge and jury will," he tried to explain. "You simply don't have a case. I'm sorry, but I think we'll have to turn you down."

Post glared at them both before slapping the coupon down on the table. "Alright then. Do I get the £50 cash offer for retaining your services?"

Matthew sighed and passed his hand over his eyes. "That's only if our services are actually _retained._ I'm sorry we just _can't_ help you. I'll walk you to the door."

"I'll just come back and talk to one of the _real_ lawyers here," he snapped. "One of the names on the sign."

Matthew ushered him out of the room. "I'm afraid they'll give you the same answer. Right this way, Mister Post." He threw an exasperated glance over his shoulder at Anna before disappearing around the corner with the so-called injured party.

Anna threw herself back in her chair and groaned quietly. It had been like this all week, idiots and schemers flocking to their office claiming injustice and injury, ever since Thomas Barrow had gotten the brilliant idea in his head to put a coupon in the Sunday paper, promising cash for clients. The problem was that neither Barrow nor O'Brien were willing to meet with the sudden influx of complainants, instead leaving all of the work to Matthew and Lavinia, with the elder Swire having reduced his own hours by half recently in preparation for retirement.

Matthew returned to the office and closed the door behind him. "Oh my god," he sighed as he ran a hand through his dark blonde hair. "I'm sorry he spoke like that to you. That one may have been the worst."

"Oh, I don't know," Anna said, rolling her eyes. "The woman claiming she got pregnant by Prince Harry through her telly was my personal favorite."

He smiled and snapped his fingers. "That one was fun," he said with a hearty chuckle. "She was quite daft, but at least she had manners." He sat down heavily behind his desk and puffed his cheeks out in a sharp exhale. He looked at her with that expression that said he was up to something. "Anna, I was wondering," he said slowly.

Anna straightened out the files before her, glancing upward. "What's that?" she asked suspiciously.

Matthew leaned forward, his elbows on the desk and hands folded together. He lowered his voice to a husky whisper. "There's something I'd really like to talk with you about, but not here. Not at the office."

Her brow shot up. "Oh? That sounds important." Her curiosity was piqued.

"It is," he agreed with twitch in his cheek. "Are you free for dinner this evening?"

"I've no plans," she said carefully. "What did you have in mind?"

He paused with his mouth open and a shrewd look in his eyes. "Someone wants to change our lives for the better."

**IV.**

Anna had enough time to get home, change out of her slacks and blazer, and into a more comfortable long skirt and cowled sweater. Moe circled his food bowl and meowed loudly until she tossed a handful of dry kibble in for him. He growled at her hand and Anna rolled her eyes. "This would go a lot better between us if you were nicer to me," she said to the cat.

Moe only glared back as he settled in to eat his dinner.

The restaurant Matthew had told her he'd meet her at was well on the other side of town. She'd heard of it, but had never been there. On her salary, it was far too nice of an expense. It was probably too much for Matthew as well, but he'd insisted that it was no trouble, and that she wouldn't have to worry about the bill. She slipped into the restaurant and announced herself to the hostess at the front. "Oh, Miss Smith?" the girl said, checking her list. "Your party is waiting for you."

Anna followed the young woman into the restaurant, spotting Matthew almost immediately in the back near a fireplace. He had two other people with him, including Mary. The other woman's face brightened when she spotted Anna, and gestured in her direction. Matthew and the older man with them stood up to greet her.

"Anna," Matthew said with a smile. "Did you find the place okay?"

"I did," Anna said, sitting down in her chair as the older man pushed it in for her. She looked up at him and smiled. "Thank you, Mister…"

"Crawley," the man said brightly. "Robert Crawley."

Anna giggled for a moment before stopping herself. "I'm sorry, I wasn't expecting to meet yet _another_ Crawley any time soon. Seems I'm the odd one out with three of you here."

It was Mary who replied, waving the waiter over to their table. "Anna, this is my father. He, Matthew, and I are talking about a business venture."

"Oh?"

Robert Crawley turned to her and pushed his business card across the linen tablecloth. _ ROBERT CRAWLEY, II, esq., _it read. "I've recently left my career in the energy industry and am starting my own law firm. Getting back to my roots, if you will. Mary will be our Chief Financial Officer, only because she's finally convinced me that I'm ghastly with money. And I've approached Matthew about being my partner."

"Oh?" Anna raised her brows at Matthew as she picked Robert's card up and tapped it with her fingers. "Well, that's certainly exciting," she said, a bit shocked at what she was hearing. "But what about your job now?"

"I'm not going anywhere at the firm," he said slowly. "We both know that. My contract with them is up at the end of the year." He glanced at Mary before continuing. "After Mary introduced me to Robert, he and I discovered that we had a great deal in common." 

"As much as someone who went to Manchester Met versus someone who went to Cambridge and Sandhurst could possibly have in common," Robert quipped around his glass of water.

"Be that as it may," Matthew broke in, the dig at Matthew's decidedly middle class education obviously annoying him, "Robert here is getting out the corporate world a _very_ wealthy man and striking out on his own. He's asked me to join him, and it's quite an opportunity. It will be different from what we do now. No frivolous lawsuits, or ridiculous advertisements, or questionable morals. It won't be a firm out to turn a profit, but one that gets to the truth of things. Defending the innocent and protecting the downtrodden. Most importantly, no O'Brien or Barrow."

"My, my, Matthew." Mary said with a wide smile. "You make it sound very poetic."

Anna narrowed her eyes. "And what does that have to do with me?" she asked.

Mary played with the stem of her wine glass. "We'd like to offer you a position," she said. "As head of research for the firm. You would have two or three people under you, of your choosing."

Anna blushed and rubbed her neck. "I don't know what to say," she gushed. "I'm flattered."

"I would hope you would say that you'll take the job," Mary smiled broadly. "Matthew speaks very highly of you."

"Yes," Robert agreed. "He said he would only take the job if he could bring you along as well."

She was speechless as she turned, open mouthed, to gawk at Matthew. He was nodding as he chewed on a breadstick. "It's true," he mumbled around the food. "I don't know how I'd manage without you."

"I...I never knew," Anna stammered. She's felt so unappreciated at the firm, with only Matthew and Lavinia feeding her scraps of praise when they could.

"You're pretty much the only thing that's kept me from blowing the place up every time O'Brien or Barrow give me grief," he admitted. "I wouldn't have lasted a week without your help." He glanced sidelong at Mary. "Even with Lavinia there early on."

"I'll need to think about it," Anna said as she glanced down at her menu. She raised her glass to her lips to take a sip of water, suddenly parched. It was a stalling tactic. She'd already made her decision.

"Your friend Gwendolyn has already agreed to be our executive secretary," Robert added. "In case you needed anything else to sweeten the pot. We made her promise not to say anything." He winked conspiratorially at her.

Anna nearly choked on her water. "W-what? You've already hired Gwen away and she didn't tell me?"

"Papa," Mary smiled with one brow raised and a coy smile playing about her lips. "You haven't even told Anna we were more than tripling her salary."

Anna swiped furiously at the water that dribbled from her mouth in a very unladylike fashion. "What day do I start?" she sputtered as all three of them offered her a napkin.


	7. Chapter 7

**I.**

"_Gwendolyn Jane Dawson!"_ Anna called out as she banged on the door to Gwen's flat with the heel of her hand.

Gwen's door opened, revealing wide eyes and a feigned innocence. "Whatever could be the matter, Anna Banana?" she said in a sweet voice.

Anna rolled her eyes and punched her dearest friend on the shoulder, gritting her teeth. "I can't _believe_ you didn't tell me about Matthew and the new firm!" She then threw her arms around Gwen and squeezed her with all the force her tiny arms could muster.

Gwen hugged her back and opened the door the rest of the way for her to enter her flat. "They swore me to secrecy and threatened to revoke the offer if I told anyone, even you. You have no idea how much I wanted to tell you."

Anna followed her in the small living room directly inside. In contrast to Anna's neutral coloured and clean lined decor, Gwen's flat boasted loud colors on every wall, with trophies and trinkets from her travels around the world covering every surface. Her parents were missionaries when she was a child, and she'd lived in Africa, southeast Asia, India, and Turkey. They'd settled back in Yorkshire when Gwen was seventeen, where Anna met her during their last year of secondary school. Gwen had been the wild-haired Bohemian storyteller of the class, and Anna was immediately drawn to her, forming a fast friendship.

"You want something to eat?" Gwen asked as she grabbed a glass for each of them and filled them with ice water.

"I couldn't possibly eat any more tonight," Anna groaned before taking a sip of water. She leaned against the kitchen counter and rolled her neck around tiredly. "The food was amazing though."

"Where'd they take you?"

"The Nervion? It's that Spanish inspired place off near the mall."

"Blimey," Gwen exclaimed. "They only sprang for MacGregor's pub for me. But then, it's more my liking anyway. I'd never feel comfortable in a fancy place like that. Did you get the whole royal family in attendance?"

"Matthew, Mary, and her father."

Gwen motioned for Anna to follow her into the living area, where the TV was playing some 80s romantic comedy that Anna vaguely remember seeing before. "Rob seems like a solid fellow," she remarked as she sat down and tucked her feet under her. "But Mary needs someone to take that rod out of her arse."

Anna tutted and gave Gwen an admonishing glare. "I thought she was lovely," she said, rolling her eyes. "She obviously comes from a different lifestyle than we're accustomed to, but I won't fault her for that. I think she would be someone I could easily talk to once we get to know each other better."

"Nuh uh," Gwen shook her head. "She's not stealing my bestie."

Anna smiled warmly and playfully jostled Gwen's knee. "No danger in that." She paused and bit her bottom lip. "They offer you a pay bump?"

"Enough to move into a better flat, no doubt!" the redhead gushed. "You should look into it too. I've been eying those new places up on Horneberry Avenue. May be out of my range a bit though." She shrugged and pursed her lips. "If you sold your mum's place, you could probably buy one of those outright rather than rent one."

Anna stiffened and her eyes stung. "I don't know…"

Gwen's face fell. "Aww, I wasn't thinking, Anna," Gwen said in a rush, reaching out to put her arm around Anna's shoulder.

"No," Anna said, waving her off and taking a bracing breath. "It's just something I haven't thought about, but I really need to soon. I'm paying the utilities for now, but I can't keep it as a shrine forever. I'll have to clear it out and sell eventually. I haven't even been there since she passed." She looked at the ceiling and grimaced. "Her poor houseplants," she lamented.

"What about moving in there yourself?"

"I could, but needs some work, and it's an awful lot of house for just me," she said, thinking about the four bedrooms and heavy old carved woodwork throughout.

Gwen's face pulled back in a mischievous smile. "You could call up your local hot priest and see if he wants to bless all the rooms with you."

Anna screwed her face tightly and pinched the bridge of her nose. "You're just awful, you know that? And I haven't even _seen_ him since that day at the church." And now that Gwen had mentioned him, her mind was filled with thoughts of him again. His voice, the faint trace of aftershave, the way his hand burned the skin of her arm. "And he's _not_ hot."

Gwen balked and nudged her with her foot. "Oh come on, you liked him before you knew he was a priest. And I know your type. He has to be hot. Tall blonde, short hair. That's what you go for."

"Well, he's not," Anna almost snapped. She thought about it for a moment. "He's not any of that. He's...different. He's so opposite my normal type that your head would spin. Not to mention the whole religious thing that I just can't wrap my brain around."

"My Da used to be a priest before he and Mum started doing missionary work after I was born, and they have a _fantastic_ marriage," Gwen shrugged. Her lip curled up in a sickly wince. "They shag like rabbits too, which is why I have six brothers."

Anna tried desperately to banish the mental image of the Dawsons having any sort of marital relations. "Really Gwen, you are _obsessed_ with me and John."

"Oh ho, John is it?" Gwen said triumphantly. "So you and Father John are on a first name basis now?"

Anna groaned and slumped backward on the couch. She couldn't win for losing.

"What are you doing for Christmas?" Gwen asked as she flipped to another channel.

Anna blinked. She really hadn't given the holiday much thought at all, but now that Gwen had mentioned it, she felt a surge of emotion threaten to boil up and over. "I don't know," she said, trying to keep her voice as level as she could. "I haven't thought about that either."

"You know the invitation to come home with me is always open," she offered helpfully.

Anna smiled a bit sadly at Gwen, giving her hand a quick squeeze. "I know. And I always appreciate it. But until Cam and Bennie stop fighting over who gets to flirt with me, while Peter just goes into a corner and sulks about it all, I'll have to decline." The last time Anna had gone to visit the entire assembled Dawson clan last Christmas, two of Gwen's older brothers had gotten into fisticuffs vying for her affections. Her youngest brother, at only seventeen, locked himself in his room and wouldn't come out unless Anna promised to sit beside him at dinner. Being in a house full of hotheaded gingerhaired men was like spending time with the real life Weasleys, only with less magic and more hormonal chest pounding. And Anna never failed to remind Gwen of it.

"I hate for you to be all alone during the holidays," Gwen whined.

Anna gave her a thin-lipped smile. "Well, like I said, I hadn't really thought about it until you brought it up. It's alright though. I'll probably just stay here. Go to the cinema if they're open in the afternoon. Clean my flat again." She would also give Emily a call, but as with the previous few years, she would only get a cheerful voicemail greeting to leave a message and number, with a promise to call later. Emily never returned the calls.

Gwen settled on a musical variety show, her face brightening at the young amateurs singing show tunes. "Well, I'll only be gone Tuesday and Wednesday, Christmas Eve and Day, so when I get back the next morning, we'll get together," she promised. She went on to say something about the young man on the show who couldn't hit the high F, but Anna tuned it all out.

Her first Christmas without her mother. A sister who didn't care. A friend who would be off with her own family, deservedly. A cat that plotted her doom with every glare.

Anna began locking her emotions away. It was the only way she'd make it through the two weeks.

**II.**

A week later, Matthew slipped a piece of paper with an address scrawled on it across her desk. "Saturday at noon?" he asked rhetorically. Three days later, she found herself walking into the gorgeous atrium of the Crawley Law Partners.

Her new office was bright and airy, with high ceilings and a view across the entire park. A light dusting of snow covered the December ground outside and festive greenery and bows festooned the light posts on the street below. The elegantly arched windows let in so much light, she was afraid she'd have to wear sunglasses inside the building.

"Fan_tas_tic building, isn't it?" Matthew asked, leaning on the door frame. He could barely be heard over the sound of pneumatic hammers and circular saws.

Anna grinned broadly and traced the leaded glass at the center of another larger window. "This...this is amazing," she gushed. "Is this _really_ my office?" She circled her hand in the air, taking in the delicate original plaster moldings around the ceiling.

Matthew stepped further into the room and motioned toward the left side of the room. "I figure shelves all along that wall, desk over here, some chairs, perhaps a sofa, and that door right there, that's your own personal lavatory and wardrobe closet. Of course, you can arrange it all however you'd like."

"You're joking."

"I'm deadly serious," he laughed. "Robert is sparing _no_ expense. My own office is _much_ nicer than this. Gorgeous oak paneling and the like. Honestly, I don't know how you'll get by without all of the splendour that I'll have to lounge about in all day." He grinned with a cocked eyebrow. "I tried to talk him into a jacuzzi, but that was taking it a bit far."

Anna ran her hands over the venetian plaster walls. "This must have cost a fortune," she wondered. Robert had bought the entire art deco styled building with cash, and was paying for the renovations out of his pocket as well. Apparently, he'd cashed out all of his shares in the petroleum company he'd worked for, as well as taking a large cash payout upon retiring. He donated a large sum of it to various charities of his liking, and his mother had directed even more of the money to other causes. It had made them a very popular family in this part of Yorkshire. It was amazing that she had never really heard of the greater Crawley family before now, but Robert had spent so much time in London the past few years that he was a stranger at home, precipitating his retirement.

"When are you handing in your notice?" Anna asked Matthew. Neither they nor Gwen had breathed a peep of their plan inside the office, and she believed that O'Brien and Barrow hadn't a clue what was about to hit them. Lavinia knew, and her father as well, but he was close to retirement himself, and Lavinia revealed that she planned on moving back to Manchester when he left. There was no tension between her and Matthew anymore, not that anyone could tell. They were cordial now, even friendly, and Anna felt great relief that she didn't have stand by to play referee if things went south.

"Monday," he said, glancing at his the calendar on his phone. "I figure you and Gwen would do the same. That gets us through Christmas and the new year if they keep us on the week after. And if they don't, it will be a nice break around the holidays, and Robert will assure that you don't lack for income that week. We can start fresh here on January third. New year, new life."

"Will everything be ready by then?" she asked dubiously.

"It had better be," Matthew scoffed as he looked around. "The workers are being paid double to get it done. Rob is planning on throwing a New Year's Eve party, by the way. Mostly for the employees, but we'll entertain a few clients, hopefully snag some new ones while we're at it." He eyed her appraisingly. "It's a couple's thing actually. Do you have anyone to bring?"

Anna shook her head and rolled her eyes. "No. Gwen and I will show up stag like we always do."

He was silent for a moment, not really paying attention to her. His face suddenly brightened, then he blurted out, "I'm planning on proposing to Mary."

"You what?"

"That night," he grinned, "I'm planning on proposing to Mary at midnight."

Anna arched her brow in disbelief. "That's a bit fast, I think? It's just been a few months?" she said carefully. "And are you sure about her? She's a bit...independent."

"I've never been so sure of anything in my life," he replied. "Have you ever met someone, and you just _know_? You know that this is a good person? The _right_ person?"

Anna could only shake her head as she bit the inside of her bottom lip. She looked out the window and down to the street below, searching as she always did for a dark head of hair and eyes creased with kindness.

**III.**

John smoothed back his unruly hair, free from the product that had kept it in place all day, before knocking on the door with his right hand. In his left, he held a bouquet of flowers he'd picked up from the shop up the street that morning. He waited patiently for a few moments, frowned, and raised his hand to knock again.

The door flew open with his hand still in the air. Sybil practically squealed as she launched herself at him, throwing her arms around his shoulders as John awkwardly tried to hug her back. "Mama, Papa! John's here!" she shouted over her shoulder before giving him another quick hug. "Merry Christmas! How are you?" she gushed, running her hands down his upper arms. Her patchwork skirt matched the purple lock of hair that she had twisted up into a bun with the rest of her dark tresses. She was the baby of the family, the free spirit who found a new cause to champion every week, a new person to save, a new dream to chase.

"Fine, fine," John laughed as he followed her into the foyer of the grand old house. "You just saw me on Sunday, little lady."

"I know," Sybil said sheepishly. "But you're Reverend Bates on Sundays and holidays, and you're doing your job. Now you're Uncle John and we have you all to yourselves. Can I take your coat?"

"Oh, yes, thank you," John murmured as he shuffled the bouquet from hand to hand as Sybil removed his long wool coat.

"Dear John," he heard Cora call from the side hall, her footsteps echoing loudly on the polished wooden floor. Rob's American born wife would have been perfectly at home in either London society or New York City bustle. She'd been a semi-famous pop singer in her late teens before meeting a charming young university student visiting the U.S. from Yorkshire at one of her shows. Three weeks later, _she_ proposed to _him_ and moved halfway across the world to get married, much to the ongoing chagrin of both of their families. She'd adapted easily to the more laid back English life, but her wit and tastes were decidedly American, even thirty years odd later.

"Hello Cora," John said as he kissed Rob's wife on the cheek. "Thank you for having me tonight. You look lovely as always." And she did, in her pink blouse and cropped pants, every inch of her carefully polished and poised. John had always envied Rob more than a little, having a wife who supported and loved him through thick and thin, not to mention one who aged so well. "Here, for the house." He offered up the flowers and Cora accepted them with a warm smile.

"They're lovely," she said, admiring the colorful bouquet. "Sybil, can you take John back to the kitchen and put these in water?" Cora asked. "I have to go see what Robert's gotten up to."

"He probably can't decide on what sweater to put on," Sybil said with an exasperated expression. "I swear he needs someone to pick his clothes out for him, the way he stares at the closet so long every day. Come on, Uncle John," she said, looping her arm around his elbow and pulling him toward the kitchen. "I want you to meet my Tom. And cousin Matthew, of course."

The house had been an old manor home, built in the eighteenth century, which Rob had taken over from his mother twenty years ago when she decided to downsize. The house retained much of its original architecture and decor on the outside, but it had quite a few modern touches throughout the interior. The grand open foyer had a glass roof above it, and for every delicately carved piece of wooden moulding, there was a hard edged wall or support beam. Artwork from the Renaissance was hung alongside Cubism, and ethereal carved goddesses shared niches with abstract iron and glass. It made for an eccentric, but strangely cohesive union.

The kitchen adjoined a large family room, where the sound of the Manchester-Liverpool match on the television made his ears perk up. Mary and some other young fellow were talking closely on a couch, paying no attention to the game, while Edith stood off to the side, looking out the window with a bored expression. The only one who seemed to be watching the match was an excited young man who John assumed was Sybil's new boyfriend Tom, whom Rob had mentioned before with disdain. John introduced himself to Tom and Matthew, pointedly asking them to call him John, with a cheerful smile. Five seconds later, his smile became a grimace when he learned that Tom was cheering for Liverpool.

"Reverend Bates," he heard a reedy voice call from the corner of the kitchen, where a pair of wingback chairs framed an original marble fireplace.

John immediately and somewhat apprehensively turned his attention to the older woman sitting in one of the chairs like a queen on her throne. Had she been born in a different era, Violet Grantham would have undoubtedly held court with the best of them. As she was, she never let it be forgotten that she was the matriarch of the Crawley family, and that it was her vote that finally gave John the position at Downton. Her first husband, Rob's father, had died when Rob was in his teens, and Violet remarried an heirless Earl a few years later. Law had prevented him from adopting the adult Rob as his own, so the title went dead, but his estate was left to Violet and her two children.

"Mrs. Grantham," he said smoothly, offering out his hand and bending slightly at the waist to greet her.

Violet took his hand and shook it briefly before waving him off. "You don't have to bow before me, Reverend," she admonished with a sparkle in her eyes. "Though I do appreciate the sentiment. Were this the twenties I'd have expected a full royal tribute and a sonnet written in my name." She had a sharp tongue and an even sharper wit, and John found that he rather enjoyed her barbed, yet well measured comments.

"I can't do a full tribute," John said with spread hands, "but I can have a sonnet prepared next time. I hope you'll forgive my insolence."

Violet gave a hooting little laugh as she gestured for him to take the other seat. He glanced longingly at the television as he sat down, which wasn't unnoticed by Rob's mother. "United is up by four, with fifteen minutes to go in the last half," she offered very matter of factly. "If God decides to pay Liverpool a visit before the hour is up and hands them a Christmas miracle in the form of five points, Tom over there will be a very happy young man. He'll be insufferable of course. The Irish are far too boisterous for my tastes."

"You forget that I'm half Irish," he reminded her gently.

"Hmm, yes, and that half ran you into the ground for the first half of your life, and now the English half will take you to a much calmer end."

John chuckled and crossed his legs, giving the game another quick glance. "Forgive my distraction," he apologized. "I haven't been able to catch a match since I moved into the pastor's cottage."

Violet tutted and rolled her eyes. "Yes, Robert was telling me that the house is absolutely dreadful inside. Not fit for man nor beast."

"You both make it sound as if I'm living in a cave with a pack of wolves."

Violet made an expression he'd come to recognize from her as indignant shock. "I've _seen_ that...animal of yours, and you might as well be living with a pack of wolves."

A strong hand clapped John on his shoulder from behind. "What's this about wolves, Mama?" Rob chided her. Apparently Rob had finally decided on his clothing and had joined the family, completing their dinner party.

"Only that Reverend Bates's dog is larger than the pony I had as a child," she shuddered. "I can't see how he can keep it indoors. All that hair and drool." She looked up at Rob and her jaw dropped open. "Robert George Crawley? What in heaven's name are you wearing?" she said in horror.

John finally looked over his shoulder at Rob and gasped out loud. "Robert, that is the ugliest sweater that I've ever laid eyes upon," he said with absolute conviction. And it was. Red with roughly defined stripes, something resembling a star near the shoulder, and a snowflake somewhere near Rob's navel. He wasn't sure if the embroidered face in the center was Jesus, Santa Claus, or Sir Richard Attenborough. Either way, it was nightmare of fashion.

Rob's eyes narrowed slightly and his jaw shifted to one side. "You know, I think I liked you better before God got ahold of you and you didn't speak every truth that came to your mind." He stared John down for several seconds before they both broke into belly laughs. He wiped a tear from one eye and wagged a finger at John. "We should start a tradition. Everyone has to wear a horrible sweater at Christmas Eve dinner."

John looked at him sidelong and waved one hand. "I'm sorry, my friend, but I wouldn't be caught dead in something that hideous. I think that bit in your head needs to be looked at again."

"Yes, well Cora is always saying that I need someone to dress me some mornings," Rob mused.

"Every morning!" Sybil called from the table as she helped Cora set out the silverware.

Rob rolled his eyes, then frowned as he remembered something. "Oh, did you bring that work order from the roofing company for the cottage I asked about?" he asked John. "I'll need to file that the day after Christmas."

John patted at his pants pockets before he realized where he'd left the paperwork. "It's in my coat pocket," he said, rising from his seat. "I'll go and grab it for you." He headed back to the front of the house to the foyer, and rummaged around in the boot closet until he found his coat.

As he slipped the paperwork out of his coat pocket, he heard a loud rapping from the front door knocker. "I'll get it," John called out as he crossed over to the heavy entry doors. He expected it would be Christmas carolers. Isis trotted alongside him, giving a quick warning bark.

He didn't expect to find Anna Smith standing breathlessly in front of him in the cold, holding a long velvet bag tied up with a pretty ribbon. And by her shocked expression, she didn't expect to see him holding the door for her with his mouth gaping like an idiot.


	8. Chapter 8

**I.**

Just like the new office building, it appeared the Robert Crawley did nothing by half measures. His family home was situated in the middle of a sprawling thirty acres of countryside twenty minutes drive outside of town, adjacent to a large nature preserve. She had driven past it dozens of times and admired it from afar, wondering who lived there and how anyone could afford it. Now she knew.

The crunch of gravel under her feet was loud in the crisp night air as she walked up the drive where she'd left her little Micra parked alongside several foreign luxury cars. She realized that she was completely out of her element and almost spun on her heels to go home. But she'd promised Rob and Matthew that she would join their family for Christmas Eve dinner, after they'd asked about her plans and she'd almost broken down in tears. Rob had been so wonderful, sitting down with her and offering her a handkerchief amidst the loud banging and construction dust in the building. He'd said something very poignant that stuck with her even now.

"_I've been blessed with the fortune of a wonderful family, and we're always adding friends to it. You're always welcome in our home."_

It was the same sentiment her mother had instilled upon her when she was alive and well. Jeanne Smith had been an NHS administrator at the hospital in town and worked every other Christmas Eve and Day. If she was off for the holiday, she always made sure that the staff was well supplied with food and little gifts, and if she had to work, she did the same, only she extended it to the patients who were well enough to receive such cheer. Anna remembered several Christmases when a complete stranger joined them for dinner, usually a recently released patient or young hospital intern who had no family with whom to spend the holiday.

She knocked tentatively on the heavy wooden door and waited, bouncing nervously on her feet. She thought she heard someone shout from within, then saw a shadow move across the sidelight beside the door, accompanied by a dog barking. She plastered on a cheerful smile and leaned forward as the door opened.

Anna was absolutely not prepared for John Bates to be standing there before her, and by his expression, the feeling was mutual. Both of them stood there, mouths open and eyes searching back and forth, before they spoke at the same time.

"Anna…"

"Reverend Bates."

John's face fell a bit, and he frowned in confusion. "What are you..."

"I hope I'm at the right place?" she asked in a rush. "This _is _the Crawley house, am I correct?"

John smiled and nodded. "If that's what you were looking for, then yes. Come on in from the cold," he said, waving his hand and stepping out of her way.

Anna stepped through the threshold and into the sort of foyer she had only seen in architectural magazines. She almost forgot John was there as she slowly took it all in, spinning and gawking open mouthed like a child at a carnival.

"May I take your coat?" John asked, his hand lightly touching her shoulder.

Anna ducked her head and smiled, then turned a bit as she shrugged one arm out of her coat, letting him peel the other arm off. "You don't live here do you? You live at the church right?" she asked incredulously. She reached down to pat the head of the cheerful Labrador bouncing around her feet.

John chuckled heartily. "My life isn't this grand, I'm afraid. I'm just a friend of the family."

"And their butler on the side?" Her cheeks tightened into a smile.

"No, no butler here in years," he said with a smirk as he walked over to a side closet and hung her coat on a hanger. "A maid three times a week. And a landscaping crew." Anna noticed that he had a little hitch in his step that she'd never seen before. "Robert is my best friend," he explained as he walked the dozen steps back toward her. Yes, he was definitely walking off balance quite a bit. "I've no family anymore to speak of, so I've spent every holiday with them for the past...six? Seven years? Now the obvious question is, what brings you here?"

Anna looked up at him shyly. Gone was the black-clad and conservatively buttoned up Reverend, with his hair slicked into place. In his place was a loose haired, casually dressed man who oozed confidence and…

Anna glanced away from him awkwardly. "Well, Reverend…"

"John," he insisted, raising his eyebrows and smirking at her.

She stopped her eyes from rolling too far backward. "_John. _They invited me for dinner, seeing as this is my first Christmas without…" She stopped and pressed her lips together. "They invited me for dinner. Mister Crawley and Matthew, and Mary too, I suppose. I'll be starting work for them next week. Robert made me promise I'd come."

"You're kidding?" John laughed in disbelief. "Rob told me he had some young lady joining the staff who could run circles around him, but you? That's quite brilliant. He was singing your praises the other day. You've already made quite the impression and you haven't even started yet."

Anna was genuinely surprised and smiled as she tucked her hair behind her ear. "I don't know about all that…" she said bashfully, her ears turning red.

"I'm serious," he insisted, hands on his hips and his right leg slightly bent. The pose was drawing entirely too much attention to the jeans he wore quite well. "Robert's not easily impressed. Anyway," he nodded his head toward a large opening off the foyer. "I suppose they're wondering where I got off to. Shall we join them?"

He extended his arm out and Anna took it with a moment of hesitation, tucking her hand into the crook of his elbow. As they walked toward the back of the house, his rolling gait caused their bodies to brush against each other every other step.

"Did you hurt your leg?" Anna asked before shaking her head and apologizing. "Sorry, not my place to ask. I just realized that I've never seen you actually walk. You've always just apparated before me like a magician."

John laughed softly and patted her hand reassuringly. "It's fine. It's an old injury."

"From when you were in the Army?"

His eyebrows shot up and he stopped in place, regarding her curiously. "It is. So you read that article," he surmised. "What did you think?"

She wasn't sure if he meant the article itself, or the subject. Her face flushed crimson and she dropped her eyes, only looking up when he wiggled his arm to prod her on. She could feel the cords of muscle in his forearm through the soft green pullover sweater he wore. "I did read it. It was lovely. Provided a lot of insight."

There was something about the set of his jaw that said there were things that the article didn't go into. "It touched on the basics," he said quietly. "There's a great deal more to me than just 'he was in the Army' and 'found God late in life.' Those things shaped me, but many other factors made me who I am now."

Anna chewed on that a bit as they walked on and emerged from the long side hall into a very modern and inviting great room, with a kitchen at its heart, a long dining table on one end, and a family room at the other. This entire room seemed to have been added onto the house in recent years, and Anna could only describe it in one word. _Home._

"I found this pretty little Yorkshire lass lurking about the front entrance," John called out, giving her hand a quick squeeze before she let go of his arm. Anna's blush deepened as all of the attention turned to her.

"Anna!" Mary practically shouted from her seat on a sofa with Matthew, her face beaming. Anna was surprised that she launched herself toward her and John, grabbing her in a quick hug. "I didn't know you were here. I see you've met John." Matthew was waving at her from across the room.

"Actually, I'd met him before," Anna explained as she gave Matthew a little wiggle of her fingers. "At the church."

"Really?" Mary frowned and looked between the two. "I haven't seen you at the services that I can recall," she said.

"I saw you on the first day that Reverend Bates…"

"John," he interjected, giving her a playfully exasperated look.

"...was at the church," Anna finished, glancing at him sidelong. "I didn't want to step in with your family though."

"I wish you _had_ stepped in. Granny was insufferable that morning," she whispered, glancing at the older woman sitting by a roaring fire. She looked down at the bottle of wine that Anna had been clutching to her chest since she let go of John's arm. "Silly me, let me take that from you," she said as she accepted the gift.

Anna stammered awkwardly. "I hope this is okay. Wine is so impersonal. It's like the default go-to gift."

"You didn't have to bring anything at all," Mary admonished. She pulled the top of the bag open and peered at the label inside. Her eyes brightened and she pursed her lips. "This is a good one though," she said, clearly impressed. "One of my favorites. It will actually go well with dinner tonight."

Anna breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh, I'm ever so glad," she said in a rush. "I was sort of choosing blindly at the shop."

Robert came over then and steered Anna toward the kitchen, where a dark haired woman she presumed was his wife was bringing the last of a very large meal to the table, with the help of the young lady who had been with Mary in the church that Sunday morning. "Miss Anna Smith, this is my wife Cora, and our youngest daughter Sybil," he said, then gestured toward the elderly woman by the fire. "My mother, Violet Grantham, and over there is Tom Branson, Sybil's...companion," he said with a touch of distaste. "And finally, over by the window, is our daughter Edith."

"Lovely to meet you all," Anna murmured. "Thank you so much for inviting me."

Cora pulled out a chair and patted the back of it. "Anna, since you and John already know each other and seem to get along so well, you two can sit together here. Matthew there, Mary here…" she went on and on, issuing seating assignments like an event coordinator as everyone began gathering around the table.

"I don't bite," John practically purred into her ear as Anna hesitated to sit down. "Unless you ask me nicely." He had leaned into her, and his breath was hot against her temple.

Anna's hand twitched with the impulse to slap him playfully, so she settled for giving him an indignant look and a gentle elbow in his side. "Stop it, you. I've never heard such cheeky talk from a man of the cloth." She took her seat as the rest of the family joined them.

John pushed her chair in for her and sat down beside her. "You're right," he admitted, seeming a bit ashamed. "I forget myself sometimes. Forty plus years of cheekiness is a long run to break." He bowed his head for a moment and closed his eyes, opening them after a few seconds. A quick prayer perhaps? "Look, Anna, after dinner, can I talk to you alone? I feel as if I need to explain myself." He played with the fork in front of him, not looking directly at her.

"There's nothing to explain, really," she whispered.

"But there is," he insisted. He turned in his chair and placed his hand beside hers on the table, their fingers just a centimeter apart, the message clear. "Please. Let me talk to you later."

Anna only nodded as Robert stood up and tapped his wine glass with a small fork. "I'd like to get started," he said over them all. "John...Reverend Bates, can you give the blessing?"

John nodded before standing and folding his hands in front of him. As everyone else bowed their heads, Anna glanced up and gave him a little smile before bowing her own. "Heavenly Father," he said in a clear voice that Anna had come to recognize as his preaching voice. "We'd like to thank you for this meal, for the joy of sharing the holiday tomorrow, the holiest of days, with family and friends, and for giving us your only Son so that we can truly know that there is love and forgiveness in this world. Amen."

Anna murmured _amen_ with everyone else, surprised at how short the prayer was. As John took his seat beside her, he unfolded his napkin with a flourish and grinned from ear to ear. "I don't like a long prayer before dinner," he explained sheepishly. "Food gets cold and people are hungry."

"Here, here," Rob said as he stood up and grabbed a wine glass before him. "But I have something to say as well, and I won't be quite so brief."

"You never are," Violet snipped, eliciting giggles and groans from the table.

Rob only rolled his eyes in her direction before continuing. "For our new guests this evening, I'd like to introduce you to my dearest friend," he said as he looked around the assembled group. "This man saved my life several years ago. It made him realize that he enjoyed doing God's work, saving the wretched from certain doom." This drew little chuckles from Cora and Edith, and smiles from Mary and Sybil. Violet harrumphed, and Matthew and Tom seemed utterly confused. "His life changed forever that day. And now he's here with us, his adopted family, to keep steering us away from the chaos of the world in an official capacity as the new vicar at our church. Tom, Matthew, and Anna, this is Reverend John Bates, the reason why I can be here with you all now. He saved my life, and I owe him everything. To John!"

John squirmed uncomfortably in his seat beside her. He clinked his water glass with everyone elses, then with hers alone. "I wasn't expecting all that," he whispered to Anna as he leaned in her direction. He was the only person at the table without a wine glass.

"Me either, but it seems you're quite the hero," she smiled back. "You're a man of many layers."

John sighed as he reached for a plate of roasted potatoes. "You don't know the half of it," he grumbled.

"So, Anna," Rob said loudly as he carved off a slice of roast beef for himself. "I know that you were a last minute addition to the evening, but we're all so glad you could make it."

Anna smiled broadly as she unfolded her napkin. "I really am glad as well," she replied. "Else I would have been just sitting at home with my cat." There were a few more laughs at this, and she realized how pathetic she must sound. "Your home is absolutely amazing. The decor is so interesting. I really love it." She knew she sounded like a babbling fool, but she couldn't help herself. She really did love some of the pieces she'd seen scattered about.

Cora beamed at her. "Thank you," she practically crowed. "I love collecting pieces from all over the world, all different styles and eras. So much can be gleaned from a culture just by examining and appreciating its art."

"My bank account doesn't appreciate it," Robert groused.

There was a minute of companionable silence as food was passed around the table. "So you're sort of an investigator?" Edith spoke up for the first time this evening. She had been watching Anna speculatively since they sat down.

Anna nodded. "Case research. I've been doing it for almost six years, I guess? A lot of digging around on the internet and going down to the records office. It's all about fact checking. It's tedious at times, but I do enjoy it."

Edith's face brightened. She really didn't look anything like Sybil or Mary, and her red hair stuck out. Anna could see a bit of Robert in her though, and some of Cora around the jaw perhaps? She was a different type of pretty than Mary's chiseled beauty or Sybil's rounded, youthful charm. "Have you ever thought about writing investigative pieces? I'm a journalist myself."

"You're not a journalist," Mary said snippily. There seemed to be a great deal of tension between the two, as they sat at far ends of the table from each other and their eyes flashed fire between them. "You run a gossip rag of a blog. One that only serves to ruin lives, not expose the evils of the world or protect the maligned or even make anyone feel good about themselves."

"A blog that sees over a million hits per week," Edith scoffed, her expression downright indignant. "I just had a piece on the Beckhams' vacation published on a major American news site."

"It's the _Huffington Post_, dear," Rob said in a patronizing tone. "They're not exactly a bastion of good journalism these days. Isis could write a piece about her breakfast and have them publish it."

Edith was clearly upset by the tone that the conversation had taken, quickly looking down at her plate but not really focusing on anything. Anna's discomfort got the better of her and she decided to break the tension. "I think that's a fascinating line of work, Edith," she offered wholeheartedly. "I'd like to talk to you about it sometime, if I could."

Edith beamed back at her, then glanced around at the others as if to say _'see?'_ The rest of the table hadn't given her any mind, and that bothered Anna greatly. She had only just met the rest of the family herself, but if they weren't careful, they could have a situation like hers and Emily's coming to light very soon.

"Well, I think it's fantastic to be a self-made business person these days," Sybil offered cheerfully. "Especially if you're wildly successful. My Tom here is going to do quite well for himself." She smiled from ear to ear at Tom Branson, who ducked his head shyly.

"I don't know about all that," he said to the contrary. "But I'm doing fine for myself."

John swallowed a mouthful of potato and gestured with his fork. "Branson, right?" he said in thought. "You have the cab company, don't you?"

Tom tugged at his ear. "My father and uncle have the cab company, along with my older brother. I've parted ways with them and started a hired car service."

"So...nicer cabs?" Matthew quipped.

"Limousines," Tom corrected. "I scraped together every pound I had for the down payment on the two that I have. I've recently found a fellow to run the second car. Good bloke by the name of Alfred. We're trying to build up a client base now. Mostly word of mouth."

"Really? I've had a few people already ask if the church could refer them to a limo company for their weddings this spring and summer," John said with a nod. "I'll be sure to send them your way."

Tom gave him an enthusiastic smile as Sybil gave his hand a quick squeeze. "I would greatly appreciate that, Father Bates."

"John," he corrected again. "No church, no collar, it's John. I want everyone to promise me that." He fixed each and every one of them with raised brows until most of them agreed. He finally turned to Anna and smiled just for her. "That goes for you too," he said in a hushed tone. "Especially you."

"We'll talk about it later," Anna replied, her heart racing as she met his eyes and smiled. She really wanted to know what he had to say for himself.


	9. Chapter 9

**I.**

"_We'll talk about it later."_

Those five words swirled around his mind all throughout dinner. Five words that became a promise and a curse. He was the one who brought it up, of course. As dinner went on and he found that he was hanging on her every word and smile, he wanted to run. He wanted to take it back. Every little brush of her elbow against him, every smile, every breathy whisper for his ears only both thrilled and defeated him.

And here they were. Their pleasant dinner had ended, the table cleared, and no one was eager to end the evening. John found himself hovering between Anna and the Crawleys. The first to keep her company, although she'd had no troubles integrating herself into their circle, and the latter out of habit and familiarity. Anna began to look at him somewhat pointedly from time to time, raising one blonde eyebrow in query. He couldn't put off _later_ any longer.

_Later_ ended up being after eleven. Violet had retired long ago to the room she kept at the house for herself. Sybil and Tom were curled up together in front of the fire on a long couch. Robert, Matthew, and Mary had their heads together over some financial figures, and Cora and Edith sat together by the window, the silence between them actually screaming a litany of words that neither would give voice to.

Anna managed to catch John's eye from her seat by the fire with Sybil and Tom, who were becoming more and more absorbed with each other as the evening progressed. She nodded her head to the side, indicating that it was time for their talk. They both slipped out of the room without anyone noticing them but Isis, who decided to accompany them. Anna fell in alongside him, her heels clicking a staccato on the polished wooden floors. She wore a turquoise scoopneck sweater that allowed him to count every little freckle on her shoulders. He had found himself too preoccupied with one on her collarbone in particular, which led to a great deal of self flagellation and the occasional silent prayer for forgiveness.

He led her to the conservatory, opening the large glass double doors and sweeping into the room with a small smile. The room was an extension off the back of house, octagonal in shape, with the roof and six of the sides glassed from floor to ceiling. It was surprisingly well insulated, and the sun never felt too hot in the summer or the chill too biting in the winter. The family's heirloom grand piano was the centerpiece of the room, and Anna immediately gravitated toward it, running her fingers along the ebony curves of the open lid.

"Do you play?" John asked, genuinely curious.

She looked at the keys a bit wistfully, tapping one of the higher notes tentatively. "Oh, I used to, up until I was probably fifteen or so. I haven't played in years."

"You should start again," John said, shoving his hands into his pockets. "I played for a bit as a child. I've thought about picking it up again, but...no." He shrugged it off.

"What's stopping you?" Anna asked as she leaned against the piano.

He didn't want to tell her that his father had broken two of John's fingers slamming the lid of their piano down on him when John was going through his Keith Richards phase and wanted to learn the guitar instead. Or that when he decided he wanted to play again during his Elton John phase, his father sold it immediately to teach him a lesson in humility. So he glossed over it. "I just lost the love of it, I suppose. Can't quite bring myself all the way there to start fresh."

Anna seemed satisfied with his explanation as she walked around the dimly lit room, looking out at the moonlit gardens outside. "This is an amazing room," she breathed.

John didn't follow her, rather letting her find her way around as her fingers gently touched the leaves of the indoor plants that Violet tended like her own children. "My favorite in the home," he told her. "I've spent many an evening here in complete darkness, just looking up at the sky. It's better than being outside some nights. At least you don't have to worry about getting cold in here."

She smiled over her shoulder as she fiddled with her hair. "Alright, so we're here."

"Alone at last," John breathed apprehensively.

"So what was it you wanted to talk about?" she said slowly.

He sighed and took a couple of steps toward her. He thrust his hands into his pockets and looked down at his feet in shame. "I wanted to apologize. I realized after you'd left Downton that day that I had never actually told you that I was the new vicar, and that it probably put you off. I never meant to deceive you. And if you felt that I did, I truly am sorry for it," he said with every ounce of sincerity.

She seemed to consider what he said for a few seconds, biting her bottom lip. "It's fine, really," she admitted after an agonizing wait. "I suppose I felt stupid for not catching on. It just made me see you in a different light."

"How so?"

Her brows knitted tightly and she crossed her arms under her breasts, focusing on a spot beyond him. "I thought that…" she hesitated before plunging in headlong. "I thought that you...liked me. And that really felt wonderful. But now I know that you're a priest, you were just doing what a priest is supposed to do."

John's breath caught in his throat and he stared silently at her for a tense few seconds. "You're right," he said in a near whisper. Her face fell. "But you're also wrong." At her confused frown, he explained carefully. "I am rather fond of you, Anna. For only knowing you a short time, I've found you to be a terrific person, someone I'd like to know better. Being with you tonight, even with everyone else around us, reinforced that for me. And yes, I was also looking out for you, not only on a spiritual level, but because I saw a person who needed a friend. I have to admit that I've thought about you a great deal these past few weeks, and a lot of that has been in a way that's not exactly...professional. Or platonic for that matter. I'm almost ashamed to say it."

With each word, her breath quickened a little, and her chest rose and fell enticingly. Even in the dimness of the two lamps in the room, he could tell that she was blushing, her eyes darkening as they met his. She took a few slow steps toward him, but he put his hand up to stop her.

"But, it pains me greatly to say this," he tried to say as gently as possible. "As much as I'd like to see where this could go, I'm not in a position to pursue anything between us."

She stopped dead in her tracks, crestfallen. She broke eye contact with him and turned her head to one side. "It's because of the church, right?" she said quickly. "I understand that, but I know that Anglican vicars…"

"Anna..."

She wrung her hands together. "And believe me, I've thought all of this out, and I think you're a wonderful man. On one hand, I'm not exactly a woman of faith, and a vicar shouldn't..." She was speaking so fast that her words almost ran together. "I've got a past, and I'm not the sort of innocent and chaste woman a vicar should court, let alone marry, but I got to thinking tonight at dinner that maybe..."

John almost spat in surprise. "Putting the cart before the horse a bit, aren't you?" She had definitely been thinking this out more than he. And he needed to shut it down before it went too far.

She paced the room with the heel of her hand over one eye. "Oh God, I'm just running my mouth like a madwoman," she lamented quietly. "What I'm meaning to say is that I understand your commitment to the church..."

"It's not the church," John said pointedly, interrupting her. "It's not. I take my vows very seriously, and I would never break them, but I can tell you that it's not the church." His voice had lowered to a hoarse whisper by the end.

"Then what is it?" There was a spark of defiance in her voice now, and she crossed her arms again, this time tighter. She was putting on battle armor and John was practically handing her a sword to swing at him. "You run so hot and cold. One minute you seem interested and the next you're pushing me back to arms length. Like when you made that joke at dinner when we were sitting down, but you immediately took it back like you were ashamed of yourself. You lean in and whisper in my ear and you act like we're the only two people in the room and then you might as well be on another planet a moment later."

John set his jaw resolutely. As she worked all of this out, he knew that he had to stop before he did something he couldn't take back. "My life has complications, Anna," he said painfully. "I'm afraid and saddened that I cannot pursue anything other than a friendship with you. I hope you can understand that. I wish things were different, but they aren't."

"You're being intentionally vague."

"I know."

She made a little whining noise and tapped her foot in frustration. "I wish you'd just come out with it."

He sighed heavily and closed his eyes. "I _can't_," his voice almost broke. "There are things I've done in my life that I'm not proud of. Things that I don't really like talking about. I've been broken and put back together, but the cracks will always be there. Those are the things that must separate us."

"You're not quite the saint that the collar makes you out to be, are you?" Anna said slowly.

"Everyone is a sinner," John breathed. "Some of us more than others. The Lord knows my sins and I hope that I've been forgiven for them. I've tried to put it all behind me. I have a new life, a new purpose. There will always be certain..._troubled_ parts of my life that I can't exactly excise with a knife and a prayer. I wish I could tell you, but you would think less of me."

"It's not my feelings or forgiveness you need to worry about," Anna said quickly, blinking with glassy eyes. "It's His, right?" Her tone was bitter as she looked up through the glass roof. "Your God?"

Her distinction between _his_ God and her idea of Him wasn't lost on John. It was jarring to have it made so black and white. "Ultimately, yes," he sighed, "but your opinion does mean a great deal to me as well."

Anna puffed out a breath of frustration. "See, that's what I mean, pulling me in like I matter," she murmured, her words barely loud enough for him to hear.

"You matter a great deal to me," John whispered, his hand stretching toward her for a moment before he remembered himself. "Believe me when I say that."

She finally nodded slowly. "All right then," she said. She tossed her blonde hair with a swing of her head and leaned against the piano, bracing her hands behind her. "Will you tell me the story about you saving Rob's life, if that's what changed yours so much?"

John was genuinely surprised she'd asked him that. "I fail to see how it's relevant to the discussion," he scoffed.

"Rob said at dinner that it helped make you the man that you are now. And if there's something in your life that is keeping you distant, that must part of it. It's the thing that made you turn to God."

"Anna..." he warned as he felt anger rising in him.

"Please. Tell me."

Didn't she understand how difficult it was to talk about? Hadn't she seen his reluctance? Why in God's name did she keep pushing him? This confounding and bewitching woman who had so drawn his attention was alternately pushing and pulling at him and making him feel pain and lust and remember who he _used to be_ and...

John sighed heavily as he realized that it was part of who she was. She was a questioner by nature and she'd made a career of it. He genuinely admired her tenacity, and he knew that she would never let up without an answer, or at least some glimmer of an explanation from him.

He pursed his lips together and he ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. He didn't particularly like talking about that day, whether it was with Robert or his therapist, and had never discussed it with anyone since he'd begun his training in the seminary. Finally, his shoulders slumped and he turned to sink heavily into a plush leather chair. He passed one suddenly weary hand over his eyes as he heard her take the other seat opposite.

John leaned his head back and closed his eyes. "You know that Rob worked for Crown Petroleum before he retired to start the firm, correct?" he began. His hand trembled slightly and he clenched the arm of the chair to hide it.

"Yes."

John sat forward on his elbows and stared out through the windows into the garden and to the woods beyond. "He was the Vice President of Contracts and Acquisitions for the company. Lead negotiator if you will. If there was money to be made in a new venture, Robert was the man they sent." He licked his lips, the memory of the day coming back to him. The heat came first. The searing heat that pulled the sweat from his body and dried it before it could cool him. The heat that made him hallucinate, made him bitter and irritable. He could feel the back of his neck burning even now.

He swallowed thickly, his throat suddenly parched. He could never drink enough water when he was there. And there was never enough alcohol, especially when he'd needed it most. "I'd known Rob for going on twenty years at that point because we were at Sandhurst together. We even served in the same unit until Cora convinced him to get out after a few years."

John leaned his head back and closed his eyes as the sick smell of the day came next. It was always the smell that was the worst. Dirt and smoke and charred flesh and rotted trash and petrol. He almost gagged. "It was August 24th, 2006. Robert was sent to Basra to negotiate oil contracts with the local government. My unit was assigned to provide security for him and his coworkers, six of them all told. It was my last tour before retirement, and my last mission in the field..."

'_It's hotter than Satan's furnace,' he thought as they kept watch over the large white building that shone in the desert sun. John kept himself on one knee beside the rear wheel of the Jackal, the muzzle of his L85A2 sweeping slowly across his line of sight. _

'_I don't know why we're out here babysitting this lot,' Lieutenant Bryant complained from behind him. _

'_Because your Prime Minister told us to, and it pleases the Queen,' John answered quietly. There was no one in the streets but them and the occasional stray dog. It was too quiet for his liking._

_He could hear Bryant huff indignantly. 'Waste of our time, Major,' he hissed. 'Command should have sent infantry. No need to waste SAS on this.'_

'_Shut it, Bryant, before I put my boot up your ass,' John said in irritation. The other man had really been getting his goat of late, and the unseasonal heat wasn't helping. Bryant didn't like that John had taken command of the unit for one last foray into the hot zone._

_The radio on his shoulder made a loud pop of static. 'Assets leaving building,' Sergeant Perry called out over the radio._

_John stood up and made a motion with his hand to signal the rest of his unit. They all got to their feet and moved away from the cover of the Jackals and Spartans, sweeping the area with their guns before the Crown Petroleum team came out._

'_Clear,' John said into his radio, satisfied that they weren't being targeted. He walked carefully to the entrance of the government building to personally escort the team to their waiting APC._

_Rob fell in beside him as soon as he emerged from the building, ducking low and looking around warily. He wore just as much body armor as John and his men wore, minus the backpack and weapons._

'_How did it go?' John asked quietly, for Rob's ears alone._

'_Mister Blair will be pleased,' Rob answered, his eyes searching the empty streets, his own military training coming back to him. 'We'll make quite a bit for ourselves and the country.'_

_An engine revved in the distance and John and the rest of the unit immediately took up a defensive stance. He grabbed Rob's arm, who in turn grabbed the young civilian woman closest to him, and hurried them toward the Spartan._

_Someone shouted at them in Arabic. A boy or teen. He could make out 'mother' and 'hospital', but they had to ignore him. They had their orders, and they didn't involve stopping to help civilians._

'_Shut up, you filthy brat!' Bryant hissed. 'Move off!'_

_John swung his rifle around as his men escorted the civilians to their vehicles. 'Get him out of here, Lieutenant!' he snapped, his nerves on edge._

_Bryant approached the boy that had emerged from a nearby alley, gun raised and muscles tense. He was probably twelve or thirteen, his voice breaking between a child's squeak and a man's tenor. The lieutenant shouted at him in halting Arabic, warning him off. The boy kept pleading with Bryant in a desperate voice, his arms folded tightly across his chest. He was sweating so much that his forehead shone like a mirror. His mouth trembled and his skin was unusually pale. It was 43°C out here, and the boy was wearing a bulky coat…_

'_BOMB!' John shouted, throwing himself across Robert as he trained his gun sights on the boy's forehead and fired two shots._

_He saw Bryant lunge at the boy as the first bullet hit its target between the eyes, the second tearing through his throat. Bryant's entire body covered the boy as they hit the ground together. A second later, the remote detonator went off, and they both exploded in a cloud of blood and smoke. The force of the blast knocked John and Rob far away from the epicenter, slamming them both into the side of a vehicle. _

_He never lost consciousness. He never closed his eyes. He couldn't hear anything, but he saw all. And he knew he was hurt. Badly._

Anna's quiet sobs brought him out of horror of his memories. He was shaking and breathing heavily, and his vision darkened around the edges. He took a deep breath to steady himself before turning to Anna, her hand covering her mouth in shock.

"I'm so sorry…" she choked out. Twin tears coursed down her cheeks. "I didn't know. I shouldn't have made you tell me."

John reached toward her leg, stopping just short of touching her, curling his hand into a fist to avoid any impropriety. "I'm glad you made me, actually," he said, a strange sense of relief washing over him. "I've never told anyone else what happened. I gave the all clear, and six people died. It's been eating away at me for years. I've thought about it every single day since. What could I have done differently? Should I have saved my friend or dived for the boy as well? I could have saved more of them if my armour took the hit too. I shouldn't have even been out there, and if it wasn't for the bloody tradition of letting the old dog run with the hunt one last time, it probably never would have happened."

Anna opened her mouth to speak, but John plunged ahead. "Anyway, Robert was knocked unconscious immediately. He was in a medically induced coma for three weeks. They weren't sure he would make it. He has a metal plate in his head, and they had to rebuild his upper right arm and part of his spine. He was lucky he didn't have permanent brain damage. He doesn't remember a thing from that day, even the few hours leading up to it. Two of the Crown Petroleum employees were killed. Bryant and three others of my men as well. There wasn't enough of Bryant for a proper funeral. I never cared for the man, but his family deserved better, especially since he took most of the explosion with his body armor and saved the rest of us. He had a son on the way, and that boy will never know his father."

Anna's eyes searched up and down his body, settling on his leg. "And you were hurt as well?" she asked breathlessly. She had moved closer to him in her seat, her knee almost touching his.

His response was almost robotic in tone. "T12 and L1 fractured, but luckily no spinal cord damage. Shrapnel wounds. I lost a bit of hearing in my right ear." He stopped and ran his hand down his face, covering his mouth for a moment before breathing into his clenched fist. He was drenched in sweat.

Anna's eyes were glassy, catching every glimmer of light in the room. "There's more, isn't there?" she asked slowly.

John nodded and studied her face for a moment before silently reaching down to grab the hem of his pants leg. He hitched it up slowly, revealing the titanium prosthetic that had become a part of his life. He brought the fabric halfway up his calf, and only for a few seconds, before letting it drop again.

Anna didn't say anything, but her fingers flexed a little toward his leg before she clenched them in a little fist. Her mouth was slack for several seconds before she broke the silence. "How far up?" she asked haltingly.

"Just below the knee," he said as he made a sawing motion high on the metal calf, where the cup was attached. "They think the boy had metal plates in his coat, and one of them tore through my leg. It was actually almost two years after the bombing that they finally removed it. I'd had one too many surgeries to try to save it, and in the end, it was the best way to go, for my sanity if nothing else."

He closed his eyes and licked his lips nervously. "But I had to get myself together first. I'd become an alcoholic. At least, I drank more than I had before the explosion. And I became addicted to pills, so much so that I was stealing them. I was spending all my money to buy them on the streets because the doctors wouldn't give me more. I was a horrible wretch of a person. But they wouldn't let me make the decision to take the leg unless I was clean and of a right mind. So I joined a program at the local church."

John smiled at the memory of walking into the meeting and realizing for the first time that he wasn't alone, that there were people dealing with the same demons as he was. "I became friends with the Anglican priest who ran the program and realized I was missing something in my life. I was _empty_ inside. I was born and raised Catholic, but I left the church when I was a teenager. I had turned away from God completely." He shook his head in disbelief that he had sunk that low. "I ended up spending every minute I wasn't in physical therapy at the hospital chapel or the church down the street. And a month after I walked out of the rehab center on a shiny new leg, I called up the closest seminary and set off down the path I'm on now. It broke my poor old mother's heart that her son had turned protestant, but she came around eventually."

Anna seemed to be taking all of it in stride. Her blue eyes never left his as he told her about the most physically and mentally painful part of his life. Her eyes narrowed, and her next question had almost a childlike innocence. "Does it hurt?" she asked softly as she glanced at his leg.

How could he explain that his foot still itched? Or that he constantly felt like he had an ingrown toenail? Or that when a breeze stirred the hairs on his left leg, he felt the hairs of his right all the same? "Much more recently," he admitted. "The weight is a bit much sometimes. I could stand to lose a few pounds for my own good. I'm not a small man, in case you hadn't noticed," he chuckled to himself.

Anna smiled at his depreciating humor, even though she was crying openly now, and she scrubbed her hand across her eyes and nose. She had listened so quietly to his story, and now he felt guilty for having told her at all. He doubted that her emotional state was fully recovered from her mother's death, and yet he went and piled more on her.

John brought his hand up to cup her cheek, his own eyes stinging with tears. "Hey now," he whispered. "None of that. I'm fine. I'm in a good place now. I was a wreck before it happened. My life was_ nothing_. I had nothing to live for, nothing to believe in. That day was the final kick in the pants I needed to set me on this course I'm on. I realized I was missing more than just a limb, and set out to find meaning in my life." And he'd met her, which was both a blessing and a curse.

Anna covered his hand with hers and turned her head to kiss his palm, sending a shockwave coursing through his entire body. "I knew in my heart that you were a good man," she said so quietly that he could barely hear her. "You lost so much, but you still came through it all a better person."

John smiled and shook his shoulders. "I suppose I did," he agreed.

"But that's not the reason you're pushing me back. Because surely you don't think I would be put off by something like that." She made a tiny little laugh that he found adorable.

He shook his head and took her hand in his and kissed her knuckles, lingering for a moment before pulling her hand to his chest. "I think your character is far better than that. Please believe me when I say that I wish things were different, but I am not free to be any more than your friend right now."

Anna beamed at him, perhaps catching his _right now_ and letting hope take hold. "Alright then," she whispered. "Friends."

The great old grandfather clock in the hallway chimed then, and he counted each bong until it reached twelve. He stood and pulled Anna up with him, never letting go of her hand. "Merry Christmas, Anna," he said.

She smiled up at him, her eyes still glassy, but filled with a warmth that made his heart swell. "Merry Christmas, John," she whispered back. "I'm sure you have an early morning with Christmas services."

"I do indeed," he sighed happily. "My first as a vicar. We should be letting the Crawleys get to bed themselves. May I walk you out to your car?"

"You may."

"And would you like to come to the service tomorrow?"

Her body tensed slightly, and her hand tightened around his fingers briefly before letting go. "I will if you want me to," she said sweetly.

"I'd like that very much," John whispered.

Her smile lit up the entire conservatory, reaching into his heart to swallow the darkness of his memories.


	10. Chapter 10

**I.**

Anna stared at herself in the full length mirror on the back of her bedroom door, analyzing every inch of her reflection.

It wasn't just the outfit she'd chosen or the carefully arranged hair she'd put up and taken down three times before deciding to leave it in a simple bun held together with her mother's antique ivory hair pins. It wasn't just the little worry lines that had appeared around her eyes the past year, or the two grey hairs that she'd found at her temple that morning. It was her eyes that she lingered on the most. The blue that her father had passed down and the kindness in their shape from her mother. As she looked in the mirror, she fought a war with herself.

John wanted her to come to Christmas services, and if she didn't get a move on soon, she would be late. But she wondered if she should still go at all. He had trusted her enough to share a very painful part of his life to her last night, but it had left her still wondering what else he was keeping from her. She'd spent so much time building up reasons to not be attracted to him, but when faced with a very charming and very appealing John Bates at dinner, the wall she had carefully constructed crumbled into dust and every reason floated away like chaff on the wind. She'd hung on his every word as he laughed and listened and shared funny little anecdotes with the Crawley family. She saw a man who loved and _was_ loved. And for a while, she saw a man that she thought she could love as well.

That thought doused her like a glass of cold water. Where the hell had that come from? She'd spoken to the man four times in her life, and spent perhaps half a day in his company, and all of the sudden her brain was supplying the word love to her? She shook her head of the foolish fog that had addled her brain since last night. She barely slept a wink as she replayed the evening over and over. The warmth of his smile. The softness of his hands. The faint smell of aftershave. The sparkle in his eyes that even now led her to believe there was something more to his offer of friendship. She clung to her pillow all night, pining for him like a lovesick teenage girl. She was being incredibly impetuous, she told herself.

Anna toed off her shoes and sat down on the edge of her bed heavily, deciding that she wasn't going after all. She blushed angrily at herself as her fingers began to strip the nylons from her legs. This is exactly how she had gotten herself into trouble before. She fell too hard and too fast for a nice smile and a charming wit. It had left her broken hearted twice before and each time she swore _never again_. Never would she lose herself so much that her heart couldn't be mended. She was still living with the shattered remains of her two serious relationships as it was. She had horrible abandonment issues as a result, and the last thing she needed was to place her heart in the hands of a man who wouldn't let her hold his in return.

Yet John was so very different from her exes. He was older, and he'd lived an incredible life already. He'd seen the world and lost so much in the process. He pushed her away even as he pulled her close. There was an inherent sadness behind the hazel shine of his eyes, something that he was keeping hidden from the world. He'd admitted as much. He was a man who had fallen and hit rock bottom and scrambled hand over hand to pull himself out of the depths. The rough feeling of his hands holding hers, not to mention the warmth of his lips when he kissed them, had led her to caressing her own skin absently. Her finger drew little ovals on the back of her hand where his lips had been only hours before.

Could she put aside her attraction to him and just be his friend? Or at the very least, a casual acquaintance? She shouldn't discount him just because he had told her he couldn't pursue anything other than a friendship with her. After all, the fact that he was practically brothers with her new employer could lead to all sorts of awkwardness if she didn't at least make the effort. They would cross paths again, that was inevitable. He'd offered his friendship to her, placed his trust in her when he told her about his injury and how he came out of it all a better man. If she ran away now, he would probably think that she was somehow disgusted by him, or that he had too much emotional baggage to contend with. The thought of hurting him like that tore at her heart. He was a good man who deserved to be given a chance.

It was Christmas, after all.

**II.**

The telltale squirming of children and teenagers in their pews told him that it was time to wrap up his Christmas sermon. No doubt many of them had brand new video game systems or iPhones waiting for them at home. He missed the days when children were excited about receiving a new football or even a bicycle if they were extremely lucky. Life was simpler when he was a boy, or at least that's how he remembered things.

Anna sat in the front pew with the Crawley family, between Mary and Sybil. He'd seen her sitting down toward the back of the church before the service, all alone, when Mary snagged her to come to the front with them, to Anna's half-hearted protests. She'd sat there sweetly and listening with interest, smiling and nodding along at the appropriate moments. He'd begun his sermon twenty minutes ago and made the mistake of looking to her for reassurances. Her smile made him lose track of where he was and he was forced to rely on his notes far more often than he liked, especially since he preferred to speak from the heart as his faith guided him.

After the sermon, he led the sacred Celebration of the Eucharist as the faithful lined up to receive their serving of symbolic flesh and blood. One by one they passed by him, making the sign of the cross to be blessed. He placed each tiny scrap of bread on the tongue, recited the blessing, and turned to the next person in line as Carson, as a layman of the church entitled to help with the ritual, gave them their sip of wine.

Anna stayed in her pew as the Crawleys came forward for their Communion. John glanced in her direction whenever it wasn't obvious, finally catching her eye. She shook her head at his silent query. He gave her an imperceptible smile and nod. If she hadn't been confirmed in the church or just wasn't comfortable with the ritual or her faith in general, he understood and would not push her. Faith was a private thing, and while he celebrated his openly and was firm in his beliefs, he knew that Anna was struggling with hers.

After the Eucharist, he said one last prayer to close out the services and thanked the congregation for their attendance. He didn't pursue Anna after he finished this time, rather he chatted with the few parishioners who approached him and waited to see what she would do. He was just finishing with old Mr. Turnage when he felt a gentle tug at the sleeve of his robe.

He turned to see Anna standing there sort of awkwardly, bouncing on her toes and looking around as if she had no idea what to do. He eased her discomfort by reaching for her hand and clasping it warmly, just as a priest would for one of the faithful, a gesture that should not be misinterpreted by anyone there.

"This is a nice change," he said quietly, his thumb caressing the back of her hand, "you finding me in the crowd this time."

Anna's face lit up as she clapped her other hand over their joined ones, lingering for perhaps a touch longer than necessary before they separated. "Well, I'm glad your first Christmas service was such a success," she said. "You've settled into the church nicely."

"Thank you," John said gratefully. "I'd like to think I have a handle on things now." He looked over the tops of the departing heads and noticed the Crawleys leaving the church. "I see you've taken to Mary and the rest of the family rather well."

Her smile broadened. "I have," she agreed. "It was so nice of them to invite me to dinner. And I'm so glad they did. Else I may have had to stalk that cafe to try to run into you again."

John blushed slightly as he twiddled his clasped fingers in front of him. "They do have that excellent chicken salad. But you always know where you can find me," he said, looking toward the lofty ceiling of the church. "And now that we're _friends_, you can always look me up whenever you'd like. Here or elsewhere."

Anna opened her mouth to say something undoubtedly cheeky by the way her eyes twinkled when Elsie Hughes caught his attention from a few feet away. "Oh, Reverend Bates," she called, waving her hand. The older woman shuffled over, clutching her book of sheet music to her chest. "The school called and said the gymnasium is set up and ready to go and that the cafeteria's kitchen is open." The older woman smiled warmly at him as she looked over to Anna. "Good morning, young lady. I hope I wasn't interrupting."

"Not at all," Anna said as she extended her hand. "Anna Smith."

After Elsie shook her hand and introduced herself, John motioned toward Anna. "Mrs. Hughes, Anna is a dear friend of mine. I invited her for Christmas services this morning."

Elsie gave them both an approving smile as she nodded toward Anna. "I'm so glad that the Reverend has friends after all," she quipped good naturedly. "I was beginning to think he was a hermit, the way he sits in the pastor's cottage all by himself. It would do him well to get out and enjoy himself occasionally."

"I have fun," John protested indignantly, secretly amused that Elsie had picked up on his lack of a social life so quickly.

"Sure you do," Anna mocked him with rolling eyes, bumping him with her elbow.

"Thank you for telling me about the school, Mrs. Hughes," John said to steer the conversation elsewhere, before Elsie caught on that they perhaps liked each other more than was proper. She tended to notice everything, and her speculative glances back and forth between them were beginning to worry John. "I'll head over there just as soon as I've changed out of my robes."

After Elsie disappeared into the crowd, Anna turned back to him. "What's this?" she asked in interest, a smile playing on her lips.

John tugged at his ear. "Downton's having a Christmas dinner for the needy at the secondary school down the road," he explained. "I'll be serving along with the church staff and a few members."

"Would you like some more help?" Anna offered graciously. "I don't mind lending a hand."

John fought a smile. "Only if you truly want to. I wouldn't want it to interfere with any other plans you have today."

"Nonsense," Anna dismissed him with a wave of his hand. "It's the sort of thing my mother would have done herself. She believed in helping the less fortunate at Christmas." She paused and smiled at the memory of her mother, realizing that it was the first time since she died that she'd had a memory worth smiling about. "Besides, all I have to go home to is Moe, and he's not very jolly, even at Christmas."

"Seems a shame," John mused as he could no longer help the pull at his lips.

"How's that?"

"That you'd volunteer to be stuck with me for the whole holiday. First last night, then the services, and now the needy."

"I don't mind at all. I like spending time with you." Anna giggled a tiny little trill and brushed her fingers against his forearm. John withdrew his arm slightly, which in turn made her frown. "I'm sorry?" she apologized, clearly confused by his reaction.

John closed his eyes briefly and sighed. "No, you're alright," he tried to assure her. "I just…" He paused and looked around, making sure they were out of earshot. "I don't want anyone to get any notions, that's all."

"So what if they get notions?" Anna scoffed indignantly. "You can't be friends with a woman in a church?"

John pursed his lips and looked above her head. A group of women were standing a few pews away, casting speculative glances in their direction. By their body language, they weren't overly pleased that he was spending so much time with Anna. Two of them had already been asking after him before, and he kindly put them off, not that it had stopped them anyway. "Not right now," he gently reminded Anna. "Outside of church is one thing, inside…"

"Robe, collar, and Bible, got it," Anna said quickly, her tone disappointed but understanding.

"I'm not pushing you away."

She wouldn't look at him, instead taking a half step back and shaking her head. "I know, Reverend," she replied pointedly. She pulled her phone from her coat pocket and glanced at it quickly. "Anyway, what time will you be needing my help with the dinner? I'd like to go home and change, if I have the time."

"You don't have to," John said. "Help with the dinner, I mean." He'd gone and mucked things up again and he didn't want her to feel as if she was obligated.

"I want to."

"Alright then," John nodded and checked his watch. "It's half eleven now. We'll start serving at one."

Anna smiled with tightly pressed lips. "I'll be back well before then," she said as she turned on her heel to leave. "Well then, Reverend Bates, like I said before, it was a lovely service," she tossed back over her shoulder. Her tone had gone from friendly and warm to almost flat in the span of less than a minute.

"Thank you, Miss Smith," John replied, his heart heavy again. How had he let both of their hearts get so involved that a simple gesture could lead to such anguish?

**III.**

She had gone to Kettering School as promised, having gone home to change into a comfortable pair of jeans and a sweatshirt. She intentionally dressed as dowdy and shapeless as possible, as to not make anyone think she was a temptress trying to seduce a priest. God forbid she show an ounce of friendliness toward John for fear of a pack of uppity women would think her a wanton woman. As it was, she drew quite a few appraising looks as she walked into the gymnasium and put on an apron.

For the most part, the people who had come to dinner were single mothers with children, and the elderly. There were a few solitary men amongst the gathered, and for the most part, they kept to themselves. A few tried to flirt with her as she slapped a heap of potato onto their plate. One toothless old man asked her for her phone number. Another fellow called her an angel from heaven every time she walked past, earning himself an eye roll and a wagging finger. She talked with them all politely and even sat down with a few of the children after John distributed donated toys to them.

She never paused and never let up, and John had noticed. "You're going to wear out those trainers of yours if you keep on like that," he said as she dashed past him.

Anna only gave him a quick smile before continuing on. It seemed that every time she tried to talk to him, one of the volunteers ended up moving closer, trying to seem inconspicuous. They watched her like a hawk. Every time she opened her mouth, they fell silent, ears turned to listen. She made it a point to not stand too close to John, even when he came to stand beside her. Whenever he appeared next to her she would immediately find a reason to move away, whether to serve from another food station, or check on someone sitting down at dinner, or to clear away garbage from a table. He seemed to get the message after a while, though his sad and resigned glances in her direction pulled at her heart.

She made polite small talk with Elsie and Phyllis, who had been the woman to greet her the first time she went to Downton's Sunday services. She learned that the man who had been painting the sign was named Joe, and his father Bill worked at the church with him. Elsie kept close to a tall grandfatherly man named Charles, and Anna had been surprised to learn that they were not a couple as she assumed early on. Everyone who actually worked at the church had been very welcoming and warm, and she was very happy to spend time with them, even if Joe tended to stand a little closer to her and laughed a little louder at her jokes than she would have preferred. She spent almost as much time dodging him as she did John.

Three hours after arriving, Anna peeled off her apron and put on her coat without so much as a glance in John's direction. She said her goodbyes to Elsie and Phyllis and slipped out the door before he noticed she had gone.

**IV.**

As predicted, Barrow and O'Brien had dismissed Anna, Matthew, and Gwen as soon as they turned in their two week notices just before Christmas. Robert had been more than happy to make sure they were all paid for the gap between jobs, even at their new salary. That left Anna with several days of free time before she would start at the Crawley Law Firm after the new year. It left her far too much time to think about John as well.

Anna took a sip of her tea as she flipped through a random fashion magazine that she had found lying around her apartment without really looking at it. She went through the motions, skimmed the photos and imagined herself in several of the outfits or exotic locations, but she just didn't absorb anything in front of her. It was as if she were viewing life through a vaselined lens, not able to focus. John Bates had confounded and infuriated her, all while ingraining himself dearly.

A knock at the door brought her out of her reverie and she unfolded her legs from under her, nearly kicking Moe as he slept at the end of the couch. He opened one yellow eye to glare at her before giving her a mewling warning and stretching his paws toward her for attention. What was it about the males in her life that they all pushed her away while pulling her closer?

She stood on her toes to look through the peephole and grinned when she saw Gwen's shock of red hair through the fisheye lens. Anna opened the door and enveloped her in a bear hug, rubbing her shoulders furiously. "Oh, I missed you," Anna gushed.

Gwen's brow arched curiously. "Me too, but what brought that on? I just saw you three days ago?"

"I know, but it's nice to have a friend whose motives I never have to question. I take that for granted sometimes."

Gwen snorted as they made their way to the living room. Anna took her coat and laid it across the back of a chair. "You want a cuppa?" she asked, thumbing toward the kitchen. "I just made some for myself. Water's hot."

Gwen nodded as she settled into her favorite chair by the fireplace. "I'd love some, thanks. Mind if I turn the fire on?" she called as Anna went into the kitchen.

Anna huffed as she took a cup and saucer from the cabinet. "I swear, you're fascinated with that thing," she said. "But yes, if it makes you happy, you can turn on the fireplace." One of the draws of this flat had been the small fireplace insert that ran on natural gas. It turned on with the flip of a switch, with none of the labor and soot of a real woodburning one. The novelty had long worn off on her, but Gwen delighted in it this time of the year.

She returned to the living room, cup and saucer in hand, passing it over to Gwen before sitting down. Gwen rummaged through the tin tea box Anna kept on her table until she found the blend she liked. "So," Gwen said cautiously. "How was dinner at the castle?"

"Lovely," Anna said truthfully. "And castle is a fairly accurate description. The place is gorgeous. And the family was very welcoming."

"That's terrific," Gwen replied in relief. "I'd hate to think you went and were miserable. Did you spend a lot of time with Matthew and Mary?"

Anna hesitated as she looked down at her nails and fiddled with them. "Not really," she said.

Gwen noticed her tone and body language. "What happened?"

"Nothing," she said quickly. "Nothing happened."

"Liar."

Anna's mouth opened and closed twice before she shook her head. "That priest I told you about...John. He was there."

"Oh my God," Gwen gasped. "Did you smack him for not telling you he was a priest?"

"No, no, at least not really," Anna explained, lacing her fingers together and squeezing them tightly. "We did talk about it. He actually apologized before I could say anything. It was all just a misunderstanding. He's really quite a wonderful man. And...we sort of ended up alone together in this _gorgeous _room…"

"And you threw him against the wall and made him scream the Lord's name in vain?"

"No!" Anna furiously yelped at Gwen and threw her arms in the air. "You are the worst!"

Gwen grinned lasciviously around her teacup. "I know," she giggled. "So, what happened? And why was he there?"

"Turns out he's Robert's best friend, and they've sort of adopted him into the family. You could have knocked me over with a feather when he answered the door."

"Did he make a big to do about the meaning of Christmas and the blessing and all?" Gwen asked.

"Not really?" Anna said after thinking on it. "He gave a quick blessing so we could get right to dinner. And after that, there was no more talk of God or church or any of that. He was absolutely adamant about the line between Father Bates and John Bates."

Gwen's narrowed shrewdly. "You're doing that thing," she said, her tongue pushing against the inside of her cheek as her lips quirked upward slightly.

"What thing?"

"That thing when you're excited about something or _someone_ and you almost _sing _their name."

"I do that?" Anna said in disbelief. She tried to think about how she said his name, then remembered that he himself had said almost the same thing long ago.

"You do," Gwen giggled almost triumphantly. "So if you're saying _Baaaaaates_ like that, you like him."

Anna shook her head quickly. "It's not so simple as that." She could see out of the corner of her eye that Gwen was waiting for an explanation and wouldn't give up until she was satisfied. She chewed on her bottom lip. "I do like him," she admitted finally. "He's terrific. I got to know him as a person and stopped thinking of him as a priest. The priest thing, it's just a job. It's not _all_ he is. And he essentially told me that he was interested in me as well, but he had _something_ that was keeping him from seeing where things could go. He wouldn't say what."

"That's suspicious," Gwen mused.

Anna shrugged as she tucked her legs up, curling her arms around her calves and leaning her chin on her knee. "I wouldn't say suspicious, but there's definitely some things he's not keen about letting on. He did tell me about how he ended up becoming a priest, and that was a very personal story that he said he didn't really tell anyone. He trusted me with that." She decided not to tell Gwen about his disability, knowing that he himself had been hesitant about sharing it with Anna. It felt like a violation to mention it without his knowing. She bit her lip and looked out the window onto the street two stories below. "All of that being said between us, we decided to give friendship a go."

Gwen winced, her face screwing tightly. "That almost sounds like he's letting you down gently."

Anna thought about it as she played with a loose string on the hem of her sweater. "I think we're both letting ourselves down gently." She felt her face growing hotter, whether it be from disappointment or shame, she wasn't quite sure. She kept her face turned away from Gwen as she blinked back tears.


	11. Chapter 11

**I.**

"Oh, come on, that was at least worthy of a yellow card!" John yelled at the television. "Take off your blinders and watch the game!"

Lacy's head lifted quickly from its place in his lap and she fixed him with a glare as if to say _'really?'_ John apologized and dug his knuckles under the flap of her ear just as she liked, earning a satisfied groan from the big dog. She stretched, pushing against him and almost knocking him off the sofa before laying her head back in his lap. Her eyes never left the bag of crisps just out of her reach on the opposite end of the sofa.

The cable installer had been by that morning, much to his delight. He'd had to submit a written proposal to the church board to have the work done to begin with. Father Gantry and his wife apparently never watched television at all, as his predecessor was a vehement derider of mass media in general, eschewing computers, television, and cell phones. It took quite a bit of convincing to get the seven member board, all of whom were at least twenty years older than he, to acquiesce that even a priest needed something other than the Good Book to entertain him.

His cell phone rang and John patted his shirt pocket where it should have been, remembering that he'd left it in the kitchen instead. He shifted in the seat and pushed himself up onto his left foot, grabbing the crutch he carried for times like this, when he wanted to be free of the prosthetic. He wasn't lying to Anna when he told her it had been bothering him more lately. His physical therapist had warned him the pain could shift about and worsen as time went on, but he thought he had more time, at least another ten years. He considered Rob's offer to send him to a private doctor instead of his military one, but as always, the thought was fleeting. He would bear his scars and pain without complaint. Far holier men than he had endured far greater pain.

Lacy fell into place at his left side automatically, there in case he lost his balance and needed to brace himself. She had gone through training as a puppy to become a therapy and assistance dog, but ultimately had not been selected for the program. By that point, John was too in love with the then gangly teenager of a dog to let her go, so he formally adopted her from the training program. She knew enough to stand beside him when he wobbled, but had the tendency to become distracted, and couldn't be trusted to assist with household tasks, such as opening and closing doors and the like. She did it on occasion, but only on her terms or when food was involved.

It was during one of his nightmares when Lacy showed him her most valuable trick, one that she had never actually received training for. As he lay in bed, whimpering and crying and curled into a pathetic ball, she climbed into the bed with him and laid across his body. She dug her wet nose into the crook of his neck and licked the sweaty skin she found until he awakened, clinging to her like a life preserver in a storm. One moment he was in a village in Iraq surrounded by bloated, fly-covered corpses, the next, a giant tongue was licking him senseless. Every time his sleep was tormented by his demons, Lacy pulled him out of it.

John hobbled into the kitchen, just missing the call from Robert on his cell. He slipped the phone into his shirt pocket and went back into the living room to return the call, Lacy hugging his side all the way. He carefully eased down onto the sofa and checked the game on television before ringing Rob back.

Rob picked up on the second ring. "I'll assumed you're watching the match? What was that call about anyway?" he sputtered indignantly. John could hear the game through the phone. "He was offsides and grabbed the man's shirt, for God's sake."

John folded his arms across his chest and slouched down on the couch, phone tucked between ear and shoulder. "I think this is the same ref that gave that bad call to West Ham over the summer...the game where the crowd rioted."

Rob grunted in agreement. "I take it you're enjoying your cable service?"

"You have no idea," John almost groaned. "How God expected me to live like this, I'll never understand. We don't take vows of boredom, you know."

Rob's chuckle was hearty. "Don't I know it. Listen, John, I keep meaning to bring this up. The firm is having a New Year's Eve party, and I wanted you to come."

John grimaced as he watched another bad play from United. "You know I'm not much of a party sort of fellow," he groused. He remembered the last soiree he'd attended, which had been Rob's retirement party from Crown Petroleum a year ago. A few people at that party knew that he'd saved Rob's life in Iraq, and word spread like wildfire. Too many drunken executives and curious spouses had pressed him for the full story, and he'd had to leave before a half hour had passed. He had gotten dangerously close to having a panic attack when some oblivious idiot set off firecrackers in the garden and ran out as fast as his crippled legs would carry him.

He nearly had a relapse that evening, finding himself standing mournfully outside a liquor store in the pouring rain, staring at the gleaming bottles inside. It had taken divine intervention to keep him from walking inside and purchasing a bottle of what had been his favorite Scotch during his drinking days. His feet propelled him forward toward the door and he suddenly felt as if he'd walked into a brick wall. No matter how he told his legs to move, he couldn't go an inch further. He believed the hand of God had reached down and steadied his heart and cleared his mind that night. It was the most profound religious experience he'd ever had in his life, the feeling of the Holy Spirit filling him, staying his course and keeping him true. It further reinforced to him that he had chosen the right path for the rest of his life.

"Nonsense," Rob replied. "I can promise you it will be much more subdued than the last one. My mother will be there after all."

He could almost hear Rob's eyes rolling through the phone. "Brilliant," John snorted as he reached for the bag of crisps and tossed a couple to Lacy. "I'm sure she'll make sure that everyone stays on their best behavior, but I doubt I'd be much fun, you know. New Year's Eve hasn't been my thing in years. I hate fireworks." He'd finally gotten to the point where he could hear and see fireworks without having flashbacks, as long as he knew they were coming.

Rob sighed, his breath heavy in the microphone of his cell. "It's typically not my sort of thing either, but it was Cora's idea. She wanted to throw a party before the office opens officially. It seemed a good time to do it, with the construction wrapping up tomorrow. And she demanded that I invite you."

"I'm losing this battle, aren't I?" John sighed.

"In spectacular fashion."

John sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Who all are coming?"

"The whole family will be there of course, along with the staff and a few of the clients Matthew and I are bringing with to the firm."

"Oh?" John's ears perked up at the mention of the staff attending. "The entire staff?" he asked nonchalantly.

"Yes," Rob replied slowly, drawing the word out as the wheels in John's head turned. "Even Anna."

John's heart raced wildly as he tried to cover for himself. "Well, of course I would expect her there, as she is a member of your staff," he said quickly. "I just wanted to get an idea of how many people would be there."

Robert's silence spoke volumes. "She's a wonderful young woman, John," he said carefully after a few seconds. "I know you two spent quite a bit of time together at Christmas. It would do her no good to get her hopes up, given your situation. That is, of course, unless you'd like me to look into that for you."

"No, no," John said as he ran his hand through his hair. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "You're right," he finally said. "Anna is a wonderful woman who I am happy to count as a friend. There's nothing between us other than that. You're reading too much into things."

"Am I?" Rob said pointedly. "I'll remind you of that if you so much as make her frown at you, much less break her heart."

"I would never do that," John promised, staring out the window into the darkness. _At least, never intentionally_. He sighed at the tangled web of confusion he'd managed to get himself caught up in. "Fine," he acquiesced. "I'll be there with bells on, if it will make you happy."

**II.**

The pearl earrings were too matronly, and the cluster of faux sapphires was too gaudy. Anna turned her head from side to side to look at each ear, before making a very unladylike groan of disappointment and removing them both. She stared at her small jewelry box for a while before closing it and reaching into her dresser drawer to find the one pair she hadn't tried on yet. The small velvet box was tucked away in the bottom, at the very back, under her socks. The old hinge creaked as she opened it, revealing a pair of dangling diamond earrings, with a single small sapphire set above the posts. These had been her mother's, intended to be a tenth wedding anniversary gift from her father. He'd died a few days before their anniversary and the expensive dinner he'd planned. The earrings sat in their box, never worn, until her mother found them a few years later. She'd given them to Anna to someday wear at her wedding, but that certainly never came about, so twenty years later, they remained unworn.

Anna turned the box in her hand, the diamonds catching the light from her lamps and flashing brilliantly. The blue of the sapphires went perfectly with the subdued azure sparkles of the shimmering black dress she'd purchased for the party. Matthew had said it was black tie, so she decided to splurge a bit. It had been so long since she really dressed up and went out, and she wasn't ashamed to admit that she was looking forward to the opportunity. The dress was long and clingy, without being too risque. All of the appropriate skin was covered, and she would still maintain the professional air she needed to amongst colleagues and clients. She'd spent entirely too much on the dress and shoes, but as she looked at herself in the long mirror on the back of the changing room door at the shop, she knew it was perfect.

She fumbled with the delicate earring clasps a bit before finally sliding them into place. Her hair fell about her shoulders in soft waves, and the earrings managed to peek out as she craned her neck to and fro. It really would have been a shame to not wear the jewelry, she decided, especially since it was probably the only time it would ever see the light of day.

Anna touched up her makeup, much more than she would normally wear, having followed an online video tutorial that Gwen had sent her that morning. It was subtle, but striking all the same. She almost didn't recognize herself in the mirror and she puffed her chest out in satisfaction. She suddenly broke out in giggles. Maybe some rich client at the party would sweep her off her feet, whisk her away into the night, and all of the trite cliches that Hollywood told her should be her dream come true. She looked good, and John Bates had no idea what he would be missing.

She snorted at her folly as her cell phone beeped, the vibration bringing her out of her flight of fancy. It was a text from Gwen, saying she was downstairs waiting to go. Anna fired off a quick reply, checked her makeup and hair one more time, and grabbed her coat and purse.

Anna made her way down the steps in front of her building, colliding with a man on the sidewalk who obviously had begun celebrating early, by the way he was unsteadily swaying on his feet and the distinct stench of alcohol that surrounded him. He grabbed onto her hips, one hand patting her side.

"You look lovely. Going to a party?" he rasped, his breath so sour her stomach clenched.

"Yes," Anna answered quickly, trying to get his hands off her her. She avoided making eye contact, for fear that he would mistake it for interest. "Happy New Year," she murmured politely as she stepped away toward the safety of Gwen's car.

"Making friends?" Gwen joked after Anna shut the car door, earning a glare.

"He's completely sloshed," Anna groaned as she watched the man shamble away. "Probably doesn't know where he is, much less his own name."

"All in the spirit of the evening, I say," Gwen replied. "I wouldn't mind being as oblivious to the world, but I'm the one who's driving." Gwen's serviceable old Volvo, older than both of them, wasn't exactly the most luxurious car to arrive to the party in, but they'd agreed that Anna's little blue Micra was even less suitable. Robert had hired a valet service to park their cars, and arriving in something resembling style was the subject of much consternation as Anna and Gwen picked out their dresses and planned for the evening.

She'd managed to find a space right out front, which was amazing given how horrible the parking typically was in this neighborhood. Anna often had to leave her own car blocks away rather than drive in circles until someone left a space near her flat. It was the one thing she hated about the building. Maybe Gwen had a good point about moving on to greener pastures. She would kill for a private driveway or parking space, not to mention a neighborhood that didn't have an increasing number of vagrants wandering about at night.

Gwen looked Anna up and down and grinned. "Look at you, Miss Fancy Pants," she gushed. She'd picked out a pale green dress and had her hair done up in a bun. "I haven't seen you that dolled up since our formal. Who are you trying to snag?"

Anna rolled her eyes and waved her hand. "Please," she said dismissively. "We both know we'll end up coming home together and then pass out watching something on DVD, just like every New Year. And after our formal too, if you'll recall. Neither of our dates had our best intentions in mind."

"Ugh, Tim Bennett was the _worst_. All acne and grabby hands," Gwen groaned as she pulled away from the curb, making an illegal U-turn to head back toward the highway. "Well, we'll look brilliant in all of our sparkles and glitter during our _Pirates of the Caribbean_ marathon." This sent both of them into hysterical giggles, and they spent the rest of the drive reminiscing about school and boys and everything that had seemed so complicated at the time.

The office building was in the "new" downtown, which was a twenty minute highway drive from where Anna lived. Her days of occasionally walking to work were over, she realized mournfully as she stared out the window at the passing traffic. O'Brien, Barrow and Swire had been near the courthouse and city hall, which was very convenient to her flat. In the past ten years, a second sort of downtown had been emerging from the shadows of the past. People like Robert were buying up old buildings and faithfully restoring them, and if they couldn't be saved, they were torn down and new, modern buildings went in their place. Everything old became new again, and the money followed along.

They pulled up to the front of the building just after eleven, and two valets in red jackets immediately ran out to open the doors for them. After trading Gwen's keys for a claim ticket, they walked arm in arm into the foyer and checked their coats and purses. They took the original old steel and glass elevator to the top floor, where the party was being held. The doors opened to reveal a room absolutely full of people, none of whom Anna recognized. She felt a brief moment of panic and clung to Gwen's arm. So much for the subdued party that Matthew and Robert had promised.

"They really went all out, didn't they?" Gwen marveled as they both took in the room. Gone were the scaffolds and tarps that had been there just days ago, and in their place was gorgeous wood paneling, marble floors, and giant pots planted with lush greenery. The entire south wall that overlooked the park had been knocked out and replaced with a floor to ceiling glass doors that opened onto a patio spanning the length of the building. It was an unseasonably warm evening for this time of year, and even the patio was packed with partygoers. An ice sculpture of a horse rising from an ocean wave was the centerpiece of the room. Young men in ties and tails served drinks and hors d'oeuvres, and a piano played softly from one corner of the open room.

The law offices were below them on the third and fourth floors of the building, with the first and second still being renovated and earmarked for expansion. They wouldn't even be using this fifth floor of the building when the firm opened, but Robert restored it anyway. He planned on renting it out as a posh event space for the right price. Part of the reasoning for the party tonight was to spread the word about the building and the room. That all of the work had been finished so quickly was nothing short of a miracle.

Anna spotted Mary from across the room, and they waved excitedly to each other. Matthew waved as well, though he was far more subdued. He waggled his eyebrows and grinned, then glanced sideways at Mary. He patted his breast pocket, probably to remind Anna of his plans to propose. Anna almost groaned aloud. The man was like a little lost puppy sometimes, the way he followed Mary around.

They ended up mingling with the few people they did know, and Anna went around the room introducing Gwen to the members of the Crawley family. All were absolutely polite and gracious, especially Sybil, who was there without Tom tonight, tonight was a busy night for his fledgling company. Gwen drifted off in search of something to eat, and Anna was left alone with the youngest Crawley sister as they made small talk.

It took her a few moments and several sips of champagne to muster up the courage to ask Sybil something that had been on her mind since Christmas Eve. "If you don't mind my asking," she began.

"Oh, you can ask me anything," Sybil beamed. "I won't mind."

"Why is everyone so down on Edith?" Anna asked curiously. "Everyone but you, of course."

Sybil made an uncomfortable face and Anna immediately regretted her brashness. "It's something she did several years ago," she explained slowly. She bit her lip and glanced over at Edith as she chatted up an older man in a tuxedo that looked a few decades out of style. "Do you remember back in, oh, 2005, I think, the captain of Arsenal died suddenly while in London for a match?"

Anna wracked her brain to try to remember anything of the sort, but everything was fuzzy. "It _might_ sound familiar? I'm sorry I can't remember anything about it. I don't really follow football."

Sybil waved her hand and shrugged. "It's okay. Anyway, he was being talked about as the new David Beckham. All of the clubs were fighting over who would sign him, all over Europe, before he signed with Arsenal. His name was Kemal Pamuk, and he was _gorgeous._ Bronze skin, curls, tall and athletic. Such a waste."

Something tickled the back of Anna's mind then, and she vaguely remembered a bit more. "There was something about the way he died, wasn't there?" Anna reminisced with a little frown. "Some sort of scandal?"

Sybil nodded and laced her fingers together nervously. "He was dating a supermodel at the time, and they were a _huge_ power couple in the press. Tabloids loved them. They couldn't go anywhere without cameras being shoved in their faces. He was starting his own modeling career and fashion line, and even film producers were talking him up. So, that day in London, the night of a match, he suddenly had a heart attack while in bed." She paused and bit her lip.

"Go on," Anna said slowly, not seeing where this was going.

"He was in bed with Mary," Sybil almost whispered, her eyes darting over to her sister.

Anna clapped her hand over her mouth. "Oh my god," she gasped between her fingers as she tried not to be too obvious. She dared not look in Mary's direction.

"And no one would have known he was actually in _her_ bed, but it turned out that Edith found out about it. She sold the story and a few photos from the scene to the _Daily Mail_ for a hundred and fifty thousand pounds, along with some lewd photos that Kemal had been sending to Mary, and used the money to start up her own celebrity gossip site." Sybil shook her head in exasperation. "Mary was devastated enough about Kemal, but to have Edith sell her out was like twisting a knife in her back."

"That's awful!" Anna said in disgust. "Why would she turn on her own sister like that?"

Sybil rolled her eyes dramatically. "Because she and Mary have always had this ridiculous rivalry. I don't even know who started it. I doubt either of them do either. But that was like a can of petrol thrown onto the fire. Even Mummy and Papa still hold it against her." She groaned and dropped her shoulders. "We had paparazzi outside our house for _weeks_. I couldn't even go see my friends, much less them come see me, because there was always some camera being shoved in my face as well. I was fifteen. Do you have any idea how much that destroyed my social life?"

"I can't even imagine," Anna said in sympathy.

"So that's that," Sybil shrugged. "Mary hates Edith, Edith won't apologize, and Mummy and Daddy want to disown her still. And me? I just want everyone to get along and be happy and love each other."

Anna smiled and took a glass of champagne from a passing waiter's tray. "Well, that's a good goal to have, I think."

"I think so too," Sybil's eyes brightened. "So it's my turn to ask questions. I've been dying to ask how you know my uncle John?"

Her heart jumped at the mention of John, and her eyes quickly scanned the room for him, with no luck. "Umm, my mother passed away a couple months ago," Anna explained. "I ended up at Downton in need of someone to talk to, and there he was." She smiled at the memory of his voice as he comforted her that autumn afternoon. She didn't really look at him much that day, but she remembered the kindness of his eyes. "I ran into him a couple more times, and we sort of hit it off. As friends, I mean."

"Friends," Sybil said, her eyes narrowing tightly.

"Friends," Anna said firmly.

Sybil leveled a finger at Anna's chest with a cheeky grin. "I really like you, but if you hurt his feelings…"

"What?" Anna scoffed defensively. "Why would I do that?"

"Because he _likes_ you, silly," Sybil ribbed good naturedly. "I could tell that all night at Christmas dinner. Not to mention every time he looked at you at church Christmas morning. I've never seen him so flustered. He's had too many bad things happen to him in his life to get his heart broken now, what with the war, and his leg, not to mention the whole business with Nigel."

Anna frowned, her head snapping backward slightly. "Nigel? He's never told me about a Nigel?"

"He hasn't?" Sybil was definitely uncomfortable now, and she seemed to be looking for an exit route. "Umm, it's not my place to tell…"

"You just told me about your sister shagging a man to death," Anna snorted. "Honestly, this can't be worse."

"Well, you'll have to ask him sometime," Sybil said, ducking her head. "Not tonight though."

"What do you mean, _not tonight_? He's not here, is he?" Anna's voice rose an octave as she panicked and searched the room frantically.

Sybil's nod in the opposite direction Anna was facing made her spin on her heels quickly, her eyes widening as she was met immediately with a broad chest impeccably clad in a black tuxedo, and hazel eyes sparkling with amusement and anticipation.


	12. Chapter 12

**I.**

"Lord, give me strength," John whispered as he emerged from the glass elevator and into a room far more crowded than he was prepared mentally or emotionally to deal with tonight. There had to be over a hundred people here, far more than the twenty or thirty Rob had promised. He made a mental note to remind his friend how terrible he was with numbers.

He felt completely out of his element, though he at least looked the part. He still had the tuxedo he had bought for Rob's retirement party, and amazingly, it still fit perfectly. He spent a good deal of time standing in front of the mirror setting every hair into place, and even more time carefully cleaning his clothes with a sticky roller in an attempt to remove as much of Lacy's fur as possible. He fiddled with the silver cufflinks on his wrists, one of the few things he inherited from his father that he cherished. They'd belonged to his Scottish grandfather, who had saved for years to buy them before the depression hit in the 1930s, refusing to sell them even when things were at their worst. He always wanted to look his best at church on Sundays no matter how dirty and downtrodden he was during the week. They weren't flashy, but they had special meaning to him, and John had come to cherish what they represented.

A waiter came over to offer him a glass of champagne, and John waved him off, asking for a glass of water instead. The poor boy looked absolutely confused as he glanced at the tray of stemware before him. He scurried off when John asked for water with much clearer enunciation.

As he looked around the opulent room, he tried not to think too much of how much it must have cost to renovate the space. It had been a storage attic only a month before. He also tried not to think of all of the sin in the room. The only ones he couldn't find lurking about were Sloth and Wrath, but he was sure they'd make their appearance eventually. He'd had enough personal experience with both to know that they always came through.

He slowly made his way around the room, murmuring greetings to people who recognized him. Quite a few were members of the church, and a good deal of them were almost taken aback to see him outside of the church and wearing normal clothing, especially a tuxedo. He told one bug-eyed parishioner that he wasn't here to preach to anyone, and that he had every right to get out and have some fun occasionally. The man and his wife didn't seem to quite understand that, even after John's explanation and his attempt at decidedly non-religious humour. He finally gave up and wished them a lovely evening as he left them to their disbelief.

The waiter who he'd asked for water seemed to have gotten lost, either that or he'd given up. John resigned himself to being thirsty all night, so he decided to seek out the first Crawley he could find and mingle with them. He needed some familiarity in the crowd, the chatter and music beginning to overwhelm him. He needed something or someone to focus on before he had a panic attack.

He saw Violet sitting in one corner, half asleep, and quickly decided that he would get no relief from her, even if she was at top form. Rob and Cora were huddled in a group with several people, one of whom he recognized as the mayor of the city. Mary and Matthew were just slipping out onto the patio as he found them near the back of the room, making doe eyes at each other, and Edith was showing a few older gentleman something on her phone, which was apparently highly amusing to all.

He finally found Sybil not too far away from where he stood, and his heart leapt. Though he couldn't see her face, he was sure that the long blonde tresses of the woman with her belonged to Anna. He watched the way her head and hands moved, mesmerized by her motions. His eyes traveled up and down the long black dress she wore and marveled at the way it clung to her figure, tiny little sparkles in the fabric catching light from the chandeliers every time she moved.

He became the embodiment of several of the deadly sins in that instant. And he really needed that glass of water.

John picked his way over to them, Sybil's eyes widening as she spotted him over Anna's shoulder. He tried to appear nonchalant and anything but eager, but he couldn't help but watch Anna the whole time he approached.

Anna said something he couldn't make out, then shrieked "He's not here, is he?" before she spun around suddenly. He was close enough that she almost hit him with her champagne glass. John reached out and took her by her elbows to steady her, laughing at her reaction. Her eyes flickered upward to meet his, then away quickly.

"I'll just...I'll leave you two," Sybil said sweetly, stepping away before either of them could stop her.

John leaned in, catching a delicious whiff of her light perfume. "Fancy seeing you here," John murmured after Sybil was out of earshot, bending his head down so she could hear his near whisper.

Anna pushed her hair back from the ear he'd breathed into. He'd never seen it so wild and loose before, wavy and bouncing with every little motion of her head. "How do you do that?" she giggled, looking up at him again. "You just _appear._"

"Magic," John said with a waggle of his brow and a wiggle of his fingers. He looked her up and down boldly before remembering himself and averting his eyes in embarrassment. "You look absolutely amazing," he had to admit.

Anna blushed hotly and took a step back, her free hand smoothing the fabric of her skirt. "Thank you," she said with a little giggle. "You don't look so bad yourself. Like a secret agent or something." Her cheeky grin made him laugh.

"Bates," he said in the most serious tone he could muster. "John Bates. Filling in for that Bond chap."

"Ooh," Anna drawled, her lips pursing as she looked him up and down again. "Here to save a damsel in distress from certain doom?"

"Actually, I was hoping you'd save me," he admitted, looking around the room with a small frown. He scratched at the skin under his collar, which was suddenly very tight around his neck. "I don't do well in these sorts of things. Crowds like this…" he paused and swallowed distastefully. "It can be a bit much for me. I tend to lose myself in them."

Anna frowned and cocked her head to one side. "Iraq?" she asked simply, her eyes softening in concern.

John licked his lips, looking around for _any_ waiter to get him a glass of water. "That's the most of it, yes," he said.

Her eyes drifted away for a moment before she gave him a little smile. "I know where it's quieter. Come on," Anna said firmly, reaching for his hand and giving it a little tug before letting go. "I'll show you the rest of the building. You won't believe my office."

John smiled as he followed her, paying no mind to the eyes and whispers that followed them both.

* * *

**II.**

The large glass elevator was suddenly very small as doors closed behind them. "Alone at last," John said with a sideways smile. "Which floor?" His fingers hovered over the buttons.

"Oh, third," Anna said, almost swooning at the sound of his voice. She folded her hands in front of her and leaned against the opposite wall from him.

John pressed the illuminated _'3'_ and braced his hands on the polished wooden handrail behind him. He smiled mysteriously at her, the skin around his eyes wrinkling in amusement.

"What?" Anna asked as she played with a lock of her hair.

"The absurdity of being forced to spend another major holiday with you," John replied good naturedly. "What's next? St. Patrick's Day?"

"I think Valentine's is next," Anna said without thinking.

"We could do that one as well if you'd like," John said slyly.

She pursed her lips together and looked up at his amused grin through her lashes. The elevator came to a stop, making her already tense stomach lurch. "Anyway, I have every reason to be here, this time," she teased. "You're the outsider."

John raised his brows and slapped his open hand to his chest. "Touché," he said as the elevator doors opened, revealing the third floor lobby. They stepped out and John spun about to take in the luxurious space. "Less people," he observed, "but still a bit opulent for my tastes. Robert does know how to make a statement, though, I have to admit." The polished marble carried through the lobby and down the hall, and columns lined the walls all the way to her office at the end.

"Come on," Anna nodded toward the end of the hall. "My office is down here. You can see where I'll be working."

"I've shown you mine, so you'll show me yours?" John snorted as he fell in beside her, his hands in his pockets.

"Something like that," Anna replied, her cheeks aching as she tried to keep herself from falling into nervous laughter. Every muscle in her body was on fire, her expressions almost impossible to keep under control.

John went to open the handle, but she stepped in front of him first. "Thumb scanners on the office doors," she said as she brushed the back of his hand slightly. "Robert spent a fortune on security." She pressed her thumb against the small black panel above the handle, waiting for the quiet beep before opening the door.

"Will wonders never cease?" John mused as they stepped into her office together.

Even Anna had to gasp upon entering. She'd been here the day before, while a veritable army of decorators had been working, but she could now see the finished product. They'd put in dark walnut floors, the original ones being too far gone to save. She had been worried that the wooden bookcases on the left wall would be too overbearing for the room, but now that they were filled with reference books and tasteful decorations, many of which she'd brought from home, they didn't seem so bad at all. She'd been allowed to pick out her own furniture, and she'd chosen a clean and modern desk and seating that managed to work in harmony with the early twentieth century architecture of the building.

"You're sure they haven't made you a full partner?" John said, his mouth agape as he took in the high ceilings and the twelve foot tall floor-to-ceiling windows.

"I _know_," Anna enthused. "Isn't it incredible?" She ran her hand along the soft leather of the chair closest to her.

"I'm ashamed to say that I'm dying to see Robert's office now," John admitted, moving toward the window.

"He has two," Anna snorted. "One for meeting with clients, and another with a big television and a minibar. I suppose certain clients may go for that one instead."

"I know I would," John chuckled as he looked out onto the street below.

Anna joined him at the window, leaning against one of the support posts. She touched her hand to the cool glass and watched the fireworks crew prepare for the show in the distance. A crowd had gathered in the park, held back behind barriers. "I forgot all about that. They should be starting soon. I love fireworks, don't you?" she asked John.

He didn't respond immediately. She heard his breathing change as he stared out into the darkness. "No," he finally said, his voice cracking. "Not in a long time."

Anna could see how his eyes darkened, how they lost their focus. His mouth hung slack and his left hand trembled slightly. She reached out and rubbed between his shoulderblades, suddenly fearful for him. "Oh my god, I wasn't even thinking…" she almost cried. "We can go before they start."

John shook his head, his entire body seeming to come out of wherever he had been. "No, I'll be okay," he said, his voice still wavering, but his expression determined. "I know they're coming. I know what they are. Gunpowder and pretty dusts and the like." He turned back to the window and smiled slightly, his eyes still distracted. "Down there, there is a crowd of people who are excited to watch them. I'd like to have some of that wonder back, myself. Besides, I have you to protect me from the big booms." His head turned to her as he smirked.

Anna looked down where her hand dangled below and beside his, her fingers twitching to join them together. There was nothing wrong with friends holding hands, right? It didn't mean anything other than a gesture of trust and companionship.

As if he had been thinking the same, his hand swayed toward hers, and she lifted her hand slightly, their fingers entwining. The sweat from both of their palms should have felt uncomfortable, yet neither of them shifted their grip. Her thumb stroked the meaty flesh of the heel of his hand.

Neither of them looked at each other and neither of them said a word. When the fireworks show started, she felt his body tense beside hers and she gave his hand a firm, reassuring squeeze. When he finally relaxed, his own thumb began gently caressing her skin. Anna found herself paying no attention to the fireworks show as her entire body began thrumming with every explosion. That she was responding this much to simple hand holding both excited and embarrassed her. She hadn't felt this sort of stirring inside her in a long, long time, even when she had thought she was madly in love with her ex.

They stood and watched for some time as the show continued. Occasionally, one of them would make a little noise when a special firework lit up the sky, but other than that, they said nothing. "We should go," John finally whispered after several minutes, right after a particularly spectacular volley of fireworks went off.

_We can go right here_, Anna thought scandalously, her eyes darting to the reflection of the sofa behind them. Instead, her common sense won out. "Why? Go where?" she squeaked. Her entire body felt hot, and everything from her belly down was coiled like a spring, aching with the sort of tension that only touch could release.

"Upstairs to the party," John replied as looked down at their joined hands, giving her one last squeeze. "Ten of midnight. Don't want to miss the countdown."

Anna let go of his hand reluctantly, flexing fingers that missed the pressure of his against them. "Right, of course," she said as she took a step back from him. "We should go."

John's hand met the small of her back as he guided her out of the office and into the hallway, which felt ten blissful degrees cooler. They said nothing else as they made their way back upstairs, his rolling gait matching her staccato steps easily. To go from the sensual quiet of her office to the raucousness of the party upstairs was a shock to them both. She almost hit the 'close' button on the elevator panel, to take them away from the chaos and back to the peaceful solitude they'd found together.

"I'm going to go find something to toast the New Year with," John almost had to shout in her ear, his breath hot against her temple.

Anna nodded and smiled with pursed lips, not wanting him to leave her sight but strangely relieved that he had. They'd come dangerously close to something other than the friendship they'd agreed upon, and she needed a little time to come down off her arousal. She looked around the room and didn't see anyone she knew, not even a Crawley. She suddenly felt alone in a sea of merriment. Thankfully, Gwen appeared from behind a crowd of people. Her eyes were bright and she was practically giddy. "You'll never guess who's here!" she practically squealed. She hadn't even noticed that Anna had disappeared and reappeared with John.

_I'll bet I can top whomever you throw at me_, Anna thought. "Who?"

"Iain!" Gwen said. At Anna's frown, her hand flapped in the air. "Facebook Iain. Turns out that night he was supposed to meet me at Ethel's, his nan had to go to the hospital or something, because he's all she's got, but the big thing is that he's here!"

Anna scoffed. "But why is he here?"

"He works at the engineering firm that renovated the building. He wants me to come with him to his friend's party afterward, but I told him no, because I came here with you."

Gwen was obviously fishing for permission, but felt guilty about it. Anna grabbed her friend's shoulders and shook them. "No, no, you should go with him," she said, happy that Gwen had finally met up with the elusive Iain. "I can get a ride home with someone. Or take a cab. Go!"

"Are you sure?"

Anna grinned from ear to ear. "Yes! Go. Tell me all about it in the morning, but not too early or I'll be very cross."

Gwen gave her a quick hug. "I love you, you know that?" she said.

"I love you too," Anna replied. "You be careful, and don't hesitate to call me if you need me. What's Iain's last name in case I need it?" Anna trusted Gwen's judgement, but she didn't know Iain at all and wanted to be sure that, if need be, she could track him down and have him killed if he so much as mussed a single copper hair on Gwen's head.

"Anderson," Gwen said with a roll of her eyes. She pointed over to the punch bowl, where a slightly balding man with glasses stood awkwardly. "That's him over there." She waved excitedly at the man, Iain, Anna presumed, and he waved back. "I know what you're thinking, that he looks…"

"Normal," Anna decided. She felt comfortable that Gwen would be fine, unless beneath that ordinary exterior lie a secret lothario. "He looks like a steady chap," she said. "You go and have fun."

Gwen grinned as she skipped off to rejoin Iain, and Anna found herself laughing in spite of herself. If anyone had told her six months ago that Gwen fancied a balding, bookish engineer, and Anna herself was having impure thoughts about a priest, she would have had herself committed to a mental hospital.

As if the very thought of him was enough to make him apparate again, John slipped in beside her and held out a glass of champagne. He held a glass for himself filled with what appeared to be fruit juice. "Who's your friend?" he asked.

"That was my best friend, Gwen," Anna replied, both disappointed and relieved that she didn't have a chance to introduce them. "She's going to be the secretary for the firm. We came here together, but she just ran into this guy she's been chasing after for a few months. He invited her to an after party, so I gave her my blessing to go on with him." She took a deep breath, having spoken so fast from excitement. "Sorry, I'm just happy for her."

"Do you need a ride home then?" John asked, holding his glass up. "I can guarantee I'm a sober driver."

"I can take a cab," she said, not wanting to inconvenience him, but also suddenly apprehensive at the thought of more time alone with him in a confined space. Cars could be very intimate places.

"Rubbish," John scoffed, shaking his head. "I'll see you home safely, and don't argue with me about it." His tone was firm, but his eyes sparkled with kindness.

"_Ten!"_ someone in the crowd shouted loudly. _"Nine!"_

Anna smiled broadly and turned away from John to watch the large decorative clock in the center of the room as the crowd joined in the countdown.

"_Eight! Seven!"_

She could see John mouthing the words out of the corner of her eye, and that he was looking down at her with a smile.

"_Six! Five! Four!"_

Anna looked up at him, her eyes focusing on his lips as they stopped saying the numbers and hung slack. Much later in life, when they were old and grey, both of them would have said that time stopped in that instant, that they were the only two people in the room, and that every moment in her life had come to these few seconds. That was the way it felt in that moment.

"_Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!"_

They swayed toward each other for a heartbeat as the room erupted around them, confetti flying and noisemakers tooting in a cacophony of revelry. It would take so little to raise up on her toes, to throw caution to the wind, and kiss him. After all, it was expected at midnight, to kiss the person who meant the most to you, or even a complete stranger if it suited one's fancy. It was impossible to hear anything other than the dull roar in her ears as she tilted her head upward and John lowered his in response.

One voice she did hear suddenly, loud and clear above the crowd, came from very close by. "No, no, no," she could hear Mary Crawley pleading. "What are you doing? Get up!"

Anna's head spun and she saw Matthew on one knee, ring held aloft, with every person surrounding them a mix of breathless anticipation and gobsmacked confusion. Mary held her hand to her mouth as she shook her head back and forth. Matthew was trying to say something, but Mary wasn't listening. His hopeful expression turned to puzzlement, then anger, as Mary stepped backward, her outstretched palm holding him back.

"What the hell is happening here?" Robert shouted above the sudden silence, his voice entirely too loud. "Is this some kind of joke?"

"Joke?" Matthew croaked, trying to get to his feet. He sputtered and blinked, his brow knitting tightly. "I'm serious. Robert, I want to marry your daughter." He held out his hand to Mary, whose eyes were wide and her normally pale cheeks beet red. "Mary, darling, I love you."

"It's too soon, Matthew," Mary gasped, shaking her head. "We barely know each other."

"Barely know each other?" Robert almost spat. "You're not even…" He stopped, his face turning white as a sheet, as Cora whispered something in his ear. "Why didn't you tell me they were _together_? I thought they were just friends and business associates. They're _cousins_ for God's sake!" he said in a hoarse whisper, clearly having been left out of the loop.

Sybil came forward on Robert's other side to take his hand. "Daddy, not here," she said, nodding toward Matthew and Mary.

Cora nodded and put her arm around his shoulders, drawing him away. "This isn't the time, and you're only making things worse. This isn't about you right now." She looked at her daughter with deep empathy in her crystal eyes.

Matthew had taken Mary's hand and was speaking to her in hushed tones, but Mary wasn't meeting his eyes. Her face finally crumpled and she fled from the room, with Matthew attempting to follow. John stopped him as he rushed past with a palm against his chest. "Let her have some time, son," he said quietly as awkward whispers began to fill the air.

Matthew looked pale as a ghost and more hollow inside than one of their haunts. He tried to move past John's hand, but John had quite a bit more height and weight on the other man, and held him back firmly. "I have to talk to her," he rasped.

"I know Mary," John said, his head shaking in understanding. "She needs to sort things out in her head. I know you love her, and I'm fairly certain she loves you, but she needs space. She doesn't take well to surprises."

Matthew swallowed thickly as Anna ran her hand up and down his arm in sympathy. He gave her a wan smile before turning and walking in the opposite direction from where Mary went, running both of his hands through his hair.

Anna let out a breath that she wasn't aware that she had been holding. "Oh my God. That couldn't have gone worse," she said in a quaking voice.

"I'll say," John agreed. "I can't believe Robert is _that_ dense to not realize that they've been boffing for months. I picked that up within three minutes of meeting him on Christmas Eve."

Anna snorted indignantly, swatting him on the arm. "Shut up," she whined. "I may not have a job in the morning now if they break up."

"You'll be just fine," John said, his eyes on a clearly traumatized Robert. He bent his head to Anna's ear. "Can you give me a few minutes?" he asked. "I think I need to go minister to my friend's mortal soul. Maybe get him a stronger drink while I'm at it. I may be able to help salvage the night." He winked at her. "Part of my job, after all."

Anna rolled her eyes as she waved him off. "Go on," she said. John smiled and left her standing alone again. _I'll just wait for you to come back into my life, like always._

* * *

**III.**

John downed his cranberry juice in two long gulps, his taste buds clenching at the sourness. It wasn't the refreshment he was looking for, but he had other things to worry about right now.

Robert was seated at one of the tables near the center of the room, taking a long pull from a flask he'd had hidden away in his breast pocket. John pulled up a chair facing him, turned it so the back was to Robert, and straddled it. He folded his arms across the back and gave his best friend a withering stare. "I was going to find you something stronger, but it seems you're ahead of me. You're telling me you didn't know?" he asked in disbelief.

Rob shot him a sour glare, then glanced toward Matthew, who was skulking in a corner. "They never came right out and said it, no," he said indignantly. "I would have thought that my daughter would have had the sense to not _date_ her cousin, and God know what else they do together." He waved his hand erratically. "Really, will her married name be Mary Crawley Crawley?"

John snorted and shook his head. "They're far enough removed that they're only related in name at this point. You needn't worry about any three-eyed grandchildren bouncing on your knee."

"Perish the thought," Rob spat, taking another quick sip from his flask. He tilted it toward John before he remembered who he was talking to and screwed the cap back on. "I suppose it's just the shock, that's all. I should go talk to Mary."

John looked over his shoulder, catching a glimpse of Anna as she sat alone at a table, then finding Cora and Mary walking together out to the patio. "Let Cora have a go at her first. Would you like to pray for guidance? Or for serenity?"

Rob sighed and rolled his eyes. "Thank you, vicar, but no, I don't need divine guidance right now. Perhaps another time."

"Just thought I'd ask," John said defensively. "You could do with accepting the things you cannot change, you know."

Rob looked over John's shoulder, his cheek pulling upward. "You seem to have found your target tonight," he said, nodding at Anna.

"I did," John replied a bit loudly as he unbuttoned his jacket. "I've enjoyed ringing in the New Year with my lovely _friend_, Anna." He said it a bit forced, hoping that Rob would get the hint and drop it.

But with Robert, as always, hints were made to be dropped and left on the ground. "You weren't getting up to any mischief when you disappeared together downstairs to her office? I happened to be showing someone the security camera system when you two walked past the front desk." At John's widening eyes, Robert waved him off. "There's no camera in her office, if that's what you're thinking. I'm sure you were both the soul of chastity."

"We were," John said a bit hotly.

"Do you honestly see her as more than a friend, John?" Rob asked, his face open and sympathetic. "Can you see her as just a friend? I know your heart is too far gone to pull back without some injury."

John passed his fingers over his open mouth and glanced at the flask sitting on the table. "I see her as something very forbidden to me, that I must keep out of reach. But I can't bear to push her so far away that I never see her again."

Robert nodded. "Does she know about Vera?"

"No," John said sharply. "And she doesn't need to know."

"If you continue on with her, even as friends, she's bound to find out. You need to be honest with her, especially given your current profession."

John thought about it and drummed his nails on the table beside him. "I would have to find a way to tell her that won't make her hate me."

Robert snorted and shook his head, looking up at the chandelier. "She couldn't hate you for something that isn't your fault, you know. Honestly, I don't know why you won't just file the papers. Get on with it."

"Because I don't need even more evidence of my failures in life," John snapped, his patience wearing thin. He stopped himself from saying anything else and closed his eyes, breathing in and out slowly to regain control. His temper had always been a problem, even as the Lord guided his spirit. He said a silent prayer for wisdom.

"Look, John," Rob said quietly as he opened his eyes again. "She's a rare sort of woman. Even I've noticed that in the short time I've known her. Don't let her get away from you. But if that means that you have to take some time and get the whole nasty business with Vera sorted out, then by all means, do it. You deserve to be loved by a good woman."

John bit the inside of his cheek as he turned again, under the pretense of checking on Matthew and Mary. Anna gave him a little wave and he returned it, his heart lifting as his cheeks ached to smile.

"You could do far worse than her," Robert said. "You _have_ done far worse. She's a marvelous find, that one."

John's wistful smile turned into one of his rare toothy grins as Anna smiled right back, her eyes sparkling. "Yes, she is marvelous," he whispered.


	13. Chapter 13

**I.**

The party thinned out considerably within fifteen minutes after the stroke of midnight. The awkwardness of Matthew's rejected proposal weighed heavily on everyone, and people simply drifted from the room without a word, having had enough of the tension amongst the collected Crawley family.

Gwen hadn't stuck around even for the countdown, that Anna could tell. With the Crawleys huddled in three separate camps, Robert, Edith, and Violet in one, Mary and Cora in another, and Matthew and Sybil off to one side, Anna watched as John went between them, acting as a sort of mediator, trying to set things right between them. He'd spent quite a bit of time with Robert, occasionally looking over his shoulder to catch her eye and smile. Her heart thumped a bit harder in her chest each time, especially when he gave her a blinding smile before leaving his friend to go talk to Mary.

For Mary's part, she ended up on the patio with Cora, with her mother rubbing her shoulders as Mary stared out over the street below and shook her head, obviously trying to suss things out by talking them through. Sybil had been the only one to go to Matthew, bending over him as he held his head between his hands. At around half past midnight, John finally made it over to talk to Matthew, who wrung his hands and talked very animatedly as John simply listened. After several minutes, John said a few quiet words to Matthew, clapped his hand on the younger man's shoulder, and they both bowed their heads briefly. This seemed to pull Matthew out of his dark mood, and he sat noticeably taller by the time John left him.

Anna caught John's eye and he smiled wearily, his own slumped shoulders speaking volumes as to the emotional turmoil he was having to minister them all through. He held up one finger to her as if to ask her to wait just a minute longer, then joined Mary and Cora on the patio. He put his arm around the distraught young woman, talked to her for a few moments, then kissed her on her temple. Whatever he had said to her made straighten her spine, smile weakly, and come inside to join Matthew. His expression was cautiously hopeful as she sat in the the empty seat beside him and took his hand.

John made his way back to Anna with his hands in his pockets and his black bowtie off and top button of his shirt undone. Anna smiled and stood up from her seat at the empty table she'd commandeered. "And did you save the day?" she asked hopefully.

He gave her a weak smile and a tiny shrug. "I hope so. I think she was more surprised than anything else, that's why she rejected him so quickly. If he hadn't made it a public spectacle, she may have been more open to the idea. The shock got the better of her."

"But she's not leaving him, is she?" Anna wondered. The last thing she needed at work was a brooding Matthew Crawley to babysit. He'd been insufferable after he and Lavinia broke up, Gwen and Ethel had complained several times.

"No," John breathed in relief. "She's gone to talk things out with him, and my work here is done, at least for the evening. Reverend Bates, relationship counselor, has left the building."

Anna crossed her arms and rubbed her bare shoulder in thought. Her little smile turned into a hopeful grin as she watched the interaction between Matthew and Mary. "I'd say you were successful, given the way they look right now," she said, nodding in their direction. Mary was actually on her knees in her evening gown in front of Matthew, looking up at him through his hanging hair and smiling as she held his hands in hers. He finally shook his shoulders in laughter and said something that made her join in with her own giggles.

"Score one for Team Bates," John said with a triumphant pump of his fist. "It's never easy making two people who obviously love each other realize and accept it. You almost want to lock them in a room until they sort themselves out." He sighed heavily and looked down at his feet. "It's a shame that mending relationships isn't always that easy. Or building them for that matter."

Both of them left the statement on the air, knowing that there was quite a bit more on the subject that could be said that they weren't ready to discuss. Anna looked past him toward the very empty center of the room. Most of the people had left, and it made her realize that she should probably be going as well. "I should go ahead and see about sorting a cab for myself," she said reluctantly.

"Absolutely not," John protested. "I said I would take you home, and I meant it."

She waved him off. "No, you should stay here with them, in case they need you again. I wouldn't want to take you away from your friends."

"_You're_ my friend, too, Anna," he said earnestly, his eyes softening. "You're so much…" He stopped and sighed, looking up and away from her, tired eyes blinking as he stared at the lights above.

"What?" He was about to say something else, something that made her both hopeful and scared at the same time, she knew it.

"You're so much more than that," he said finally, his voice lowering into a husky whisper.

Anna's heart surged, and she ducked her head to hide the flush that immediately bloomed. Suddenly the sparsely populated room was far too crowded for her, and she wanted to get out as fast as she could, as long as it was with him. "We should go," she said simply, echoing his previous words. John frowned, and she smiled in response. "We should get out of here," she tried to elaborate. "Together."

John's expression turned to one of both hope and eagerness as he looked around. "I don't need to say goodnight to anyone, do you?" he said quickly.

Anna giggled and shook her head. "They won't miss us," she decided.

"Agreed."

He steered her toward the elevator with his hand on her back. The warmth of his palm pressed flat against her radiated up and down her spine. He walked close to her and never deviated from his course, until a pair of older women stepped in front of them and gave Anna the twice over.

John stopped in his tracks and dropped his hand from her back, drawing himself up to his full height. "Mrs. Harris, Mrs. Lawson," he said as he nodded to them both. He folded his hands in front of him, his preacher persona coming out to play. "It was lovely to see you both this evening. I hope you have a safe journey home and a happy New Year."

The older of the two raised her penciled-in brows and glanced at Anna disapprovingly. "I'm surprised you stayed so late, Reverend," she said in a reedy voice. "You have sunrise services tomorrow."

"Well, it wouldn't be a New Year's Eve celebration if it ended at sunset, now would it? What's the point if you miss the countdown?" he said politely, though Anna could hear the slight edge of annoyance in his tone. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I am well aware of how early I have to be up in the morning, which is why I'm making sure my friend gets home safely, so I can get home myself."

The second woman sniffed loudly and glanced between them both. "Is it necessarily proper for an unmarried vicar to be escorting a woman who is not his wife so late at night? And what sort of woman throws herself at a vicar the way she has been all evening the way she has been?"

Anna turned apoplectic in an instant. The last time someone spoke to her like that hadn't gone well for the other girl, and Anna had been suspended from school for a week. "Now just wait a moment, you don't know me from Adam…" she snipped, her voice raising an octave.

"Anna," John said softly, his hand coming up to stop her from saying anything else. She had to bite her tongue to keep from losing her composure. If it were only her, she would have let them have it with both barrels, but she was well aware of John's position and decided to let him handle it. Besides, she was honestly curious to see how he would defend her.

John turned his attention to the two rude women before them, his face flashing in anger for just an instant before he calmed himself. Still, his expression was one of deep disapproval, and Anna was quite looking forward to the thumping these two old bats were set to receive.

"Miss Smith is a very dear friend of mine," he said in a deathly quiet and even tone, "and it is _none_ of your concern as to how I spend my time outside of regular church hours. Furthermore, if you would like to discuss something involving Downton Abbey, I have office hours daily. If you would like me to minister to your faith, I am available any time. However, you will _never_ again call into question my friend's character or morals, which I have _never_ had the need to question myself, because I know she is as close to perfect as God can make a person. Need I remind you of Matthew 7, verse 1, _Judge not lest ye be judged?_" He paused and looked between the two women, who had both apparently lost the will and ability to speak. "And so far as to whether an unmarried woman should be out at night with a man, _He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her. _Which is beside the point, because I see no sin between the two of us, but I did see you, Mrs. Harris, very, _very_ comfortable with a man who was not Mr. Harris not a half hour ago at the stroke of midnight."

The younger of the two women blanched, and the other cleared her throat uncomfortably. Both were looking for somewhere else to be. _Anywhere_ else.

"Now," John said, his hand sliding to Anna's back again, his thumb flickering against the top of her buttock briefly, almost possessively. "I need to see my friend home safely. You should probably apologize for your passing judgement upon a wonderful person who does not deserve your ire."

"Sorry," Mrs. Lawson murmured like a chastised schoolgirl. Mrs. Harris only lifted her head haughtily and nodded before walking away, with Mrs. Lawson following close behind.

"I'll see you both in church in the morning," John called after them in an almost sweet tone of voice. When they were out of sight, he sighed and scrubbed his hands over his face.

Anna let out an explosive breath, her shoulders shaking with rage. "Jesus Christ, what the hell was that about?" she blurted without thinking.

John's red face immediately lost all color and he opened and shut his mouth disapprovingly. "Anna…" he warned quietly.

"I'm sorry, John," she practically spat out, "but there was no call for that sort of...who does that woman think she _is_ anyway?"

"She was the last person to change her vote to elect me vicar of the church," John said, pinching the bridge of his nose. He stepped closer to her, taking her hand in his and giving it a gentle squeeze. "It's done. I don't think she'll breathe another word, given that I just called her to the mat about her kissing another man at midnight."

Anna turned away from him, ducking her head low. "Well, there's nothing wrong with kissing someone at midnight. It's not like it actually means anything," she muttered, blinking as she remembered the way he almost looked ashamed when they'd broken from their almost-kiss earlier. "I need to get home, and so do you. You have _work_ early in the morning."

John's shoulders slumped and he nodded, sweeping his hand outward to show her to the elevator. They made it downstairs and collected their coats without looking at each other, and waited for the valet to bring John's small grey SUV to the front. He went to open the door for her, but the valet beat him to it.

"Address?" John said quietly, bringing up his GPS screen after putting on a pair of glasses he'd pulled from his jacket pocket.

Anna said her address quickly, and John typed it in. He pulled his car away from the curb and turned exactly as the robotic voice told him to. Anna watched as he carefully navigated the narrow streets of downtown toward her flat, noticing that he operated the brake pedals with his left foot.

"Did it take long to relearn to drive like that?" she said, breaking the silence.

John seemed surprised that she'd spoken at all. "Oh," he uttered. "Probably three weeks until the muscle memory kicked in, I suppose. Some people will still use their prosthetic, but I couldn't feel the road properly. It's a strange thing to take for granted until it's gone."

"Huh," Anna said with some interest. She was somewhat pleased that he'd offered that much in explanation, but annoyed that it was such a mundane conversation. The entire cabin of the vehicle felt stifling, and she went back to staring out the window into the night. John returned to his quiet brooding, driving with one hand on the wheel and the other clutching his mouth in thought.

As she predicted, there wasn't a single space to be found anywhere near her building as they approached it. "You can just drop me at the curb," she offered, not looking at him.

He snorted and shook his head. "Not a chance," he scoffed. "My mother would rise from her grave and thump me if I didn't see you to your door."

"John," she said in irritation.

"Anna," he shot right back, turning his head to her and smirking.

She finally broke into an undignified snort of laughter and rubbed her nose. "If it will make you happy," she acquiesced.

"It will make me_ ecstatic_ to escort you properly home to your doorstep," he said with a gentle smile. "Now, where can I park this thing?"

Anna waved her hand to the left. "Right there, there should be a space on that street. It's only three blocks from here to my building."

John nodded and turned down the narrow street, finding a space and parking the car. He got out quickly and rounded the vehicle to her door, opening it and offering his hand. "Lead the way," he said, extending his elbow.

The walk was relatively short, but the silence between them made it stretch even longer. Still, it was nice to simply walk together in the cooling evening air. She found herself wondering if he felt the same sort of connection between them.

"Did you enjoy your party, pretty lady?" a man's voice called from the shadows two buildings down from hers, breaking Anna of her thoughts. John immediately tensed and put himself between her and the other man, gripping her hand against his arm tightly.

Anna frowned, remembering the voice. "He's harmless," she said, tugging at John's arm to keep going. "He was drunk outside my building earlier this evening."

John stared into the darkness, not saying a word, his entire body coiled like a spring. "Anna, go ahead and walk on," he murmured. He removed her hand from his arm and squared himself toward the alley where the man had called from.

At his bidding, she backed slowly away, with him following suit, never looking away from the shadows. They rushed a bit faster toward her building. John's hand ushered her up the steps as he looked back for a moment.

Anna rolled her eyes as she searched her handbag for her keys. "You're being awfully paranoid," she said dismissively.

"I don't think so," he said, still watching the sidewalk like a hawk. This must be how he was when he was in the Army, she thought, on edge and alert to all dangers. The idea of it gave her a little guilty thrill.

She frowned as she pulled everything out of her bag. Phone, I.D., money, makeup, but not her keys. "I must have left them on my kitchen counter," she groaned.

"No spare?" John asked, finally taking his eyes off the street.

"No," she sighed. Anna winced as she realized that she would have to wake Mr. and Mrs. Patel at an ungodly hour. "I can buzz my landlords in their flat. They'll let me in." She searched the buzzer panel beside the door until she found their name and pressed the button briefly, grimacing as the harsh sound cut the silence of the night.

A light turned on in the apartment right next to the door, then the panel hissed as they hit their intercom button. "Yes?" Mr. Patel said through the tinny speaker, his voice thick with sleep.

"Oh, Mr. Patel, I'm so sorry," Anna apologized. "This is Anna Smith in 4C. I seem to have locked myself out."

There was a moment of silence before Mr. Patel replied in his thick accent. "I will open the door and you come to our flat, yes?"

"Yes," Anna said, looking at John in relief. "Thank you so much." She smiled at him and pulled at her earlobe. "You don't have to to stay. You've done your gentlemanly duty," she told him.

John shook his head. "Nuh-uh," he replied with a little twitch of his lips. "I said _to your doorstep_ and I meant it." He kept watch still, searching the darkness.

Anna made a tsking sound as the front door buzzed, letting them inside. John opened the door for her and shut it behind them, his body finally relaxing when the door clicked closed. Anna headed to the Patel's flat, the first one on the left as they stepped inside the foyer. She rapped on their door very softly and it opened a crack, held from opening the rest of the way by a security chain.

Mr. Patel peered from within, wrapped in his robe and squinting through his thick glasses into the light of the foyer. He frowned at John, looking him up and down. "Who are you?" he asked suspiciously.

"He's a friend who's just making sure I made it home safely," Anna smiled at her elderly landlord. "I'm so sorry to trouble you at this hour."

Mr. Patel waved her off as he held a key out to her between two fingers. "Just bring this back in the morning, yes?" He gave John another narrow glare before closing the door on them.

"He's a cheerful fellow," John mused.

Anna nodded in the direction of the elevator. "You would be too, if your tenant awakened you at almost two in the morning with a strange man looming over her."

"I'm not _looming_," John protested as they walked into the elevator. "I'm _protecting_ you from the darkness."

"Right," Anna laughed. "My hero, chasing off the drunks that hiccup in the night."

They made their way to her door and she stopped, putting Mr. Patel's spare key in the lock. She exhaled sharply, then turned to smile upwards at him. "Thank you for seeing me home," she said. "And for keeping me company all evening. I really had a lovely time, thanks to you."

John gave her only the smallest of smiles, his eyes searching her face. He let out a long breath, covering her hand on the doorknob with his far larger one. "What you said earlier," he said slowly, "about how a kiss at midnight didn't actually mean anything…"

She shook her head and looked down at his hand over hers. "I was just letting off steam after what that woman said," she explained.

"It may not have meant anything to her," John said, his eyes closing in an almost pained expression. His long fingers gently stroked the back of her hand. "But it would have meant a great deal to me."

Anna watched his face carefully. "John, if Matthew hadn't mucked things up with Mary, would you have really kissed me at midnight?"

"Yes," he hoarsed, his voice thick. "Yes, I would have. Even though I know it would be wrong."

Anna's blood roared through her body, making her chest tighten and her throat constrict. He was clearly struggling with the closeness they'd suddenly found together, his eyes glassy and his lips pressed together. She slipped her hand out from under his on the doorknob and took a step backward, squaring her shoulders. His expression had become rather pained in such a short time. "I can't do_ this_ anymore," she said, her voice cracking. "Whatever _this_ is between us, it's only hurting us both."

He looked as if she'd struck him, flinching and drawing into himself. Anna continued. "You're a dear friend John, and these past few weeks that I've been fortunate enough to know you, you have been wonderful. But I can't go on with this push and pull, no matter what we agreed upon." Her voice dropped to a whisper, and her throat became so pained that she could barely speak.

John's eyes closed and he sighed slowly. "I'm sorry I've hurt you," he breathed in a raspy whisper. "I never wanted to do that."

Anna laid her palm over his heart, warm and strong even through multiple layers of fabric. "The thing is, I don't want us to be _friends_," she said, almost choking on her words. "I want _more_. But if you still think you're not in a place for that, then I think we should go our separate ways, because it's too painful to be with you and not be able to _have_ you."

John only stood there mutely as she spoke, his jaw flexing slightly as his eyes stared past her. "You're right," he finally said, his deep rumble jarring her very bones. "I can't do _this_ any more. It's not working."

Disappointment settled deep in the pit of Anna's stomach as her hand went to turn the doorknob again, looking to flee to the relative safety of her flat. She felt the sting of tears behind eyes that she didn't even remember closing. She'd lain down the gauntlet, and he'd taken it up and slapped her with it. What did she expect after all?

"God help me," John said in a hoarse whisper. She felt the fingers of one of his hands gently brush her hair back from her face, and she almost flinched at the contact. "Anna, please look at me," he pleaded in a broken voice.

Anna summoned up the steel to open her eyes and meet his, which shone with tears that matched her own.

"I cannot bear the thought of hurting you any more than I have," he whispered. "I wasn't looking for anything in my life other than the faith that has filled my heart, but I found there was still something missing, and I didn't know it until I met you."

"John, I…"

"I've fallen in love with you."

Her heart leapt as her jaw dropped open. "What?" she gasped.

His mouth opened and closed as he gathered his words. "I've tried to keep it from happening, but I'm beginning to think that God keeps bringing us together, whether you put your faith in Him or not," he said, almost laughing at the end. "The day you walked into Downton, I was wondering what I had gotten myself into, and there you were. All I could think was that I was hallucinating an angel, that God had sent an _actual _angel to me. And then I saw you again, and again, and you filled my thoughts day in and day out. In between times I saw you, I wondered how you were, or what you were doing, and I always hoped and prayed that you were having a good day."

He took a quick breath and blinked back tears before he rambled on, stroking her cheeks with his thumbs. "When I opened the door at Robert's house and saw you standing there, I almost wept with relief and thanked God for you, because you're the _only_ person who I've ever been comfortable enough with to talk about the war, and how it changed me. And you listened, and you didn't judge my past, and seeing you again tonight made me realize that..."

"John, stop!" Anna snapped, squeezing her eyes shut. Her entire body had begun to tremble and she felt his hands pull away from her as if he'd been burned. She stared at a spot of lint on his jacket, her mouth hanging open slack. "Stop," she said in a tiny voice.

John took a shuddering breath and sighed, his entire body turning in on itself, somehow making him smaller. He took a half step backward and ducked his head. "I'm sorry," he croaked. "I'm so sorry." He turned to leave.

Anna grabbed his sleeve quickly. "I need you to back up quite a bit."

"What?" He took a step backward.

Anna nearly lost her composure. "Oh God, not physically," she said with a teary roll of her eyes. He was being dense, his expression dumbfounded as he looked down at her hand on his arm. "I need you to say it again," she said slowly. "The right way."

His frown deepened as he looked at her, then his face lit up in realization. He took her face in both of his large hands again. "I love you," he said in a much firmer voice.

"And I love you," Anna cried as she stood up on her toes to kiss him, their mouths crashing together desperately. She threw her arms around his neck and molded her body against his. John's hands pulled her by her waist firmly to him before one hand tangled in the hair at the back of her head while the other spanned her waist. She felt the frame of her door bite into her shoulders and she realized that he'd either pinned her against the wall or she'd backed herself up to it for support.

There was nothing gentle or chaste about this kiss, rather, it was one of pent up desire finally being loosed. She was reaching the point of no return quickly and pulled herself away, not looking at him, but burying her face in his shirt instead. Her hands had managed to find themselves inside his jacket and she clutched at the soft fabric of the shirt bunched around his back. He took a step away from the wall, pulling her with him. One of his hands remained buried in her hair, and the other around her upper back, right at the edge of where her dress dipped low to reveal skin.

Being this close to him finally had awakened feelings that made her speak against her better judgement. "Do you want to come inside?" she asked, almost so quiet that even she couldn't hear herself.

John took quite a long time before he said anything. His fingers gently caressed the bare skin of her back and shoulder, sliding up to her neck and back down again. "I want to," he breathed heavily. "The Lord knows I want to. But we both know that's a bad idea, no matter how wonderful it may seem in the moment." John's hand stroked her hair and he bent to kiss the top of her head. "I love you," he whispered, "but we need to go slow. I think you know why."

Anna nodded and he used one thumb to delicately nudge her face away from his chest so she would look at him. "I have something that I need to do first," he explained vaguely. "It's something that I need to settle between myself and God, but it won't take long, I promise." He squeezed his eyes shut and ran his hands down her upper arms. A single tear coursed down his cheek. "Please, _please_, do you think you can wait? Can you be patient?" The way he was asking was so heartbreakingly earnest, his eyes curving downward as his breath heaved.

Anna nodded quickly as tears fell en masse. John leaned down to kiss her forehead, then each cheek, reaching her lips again as she began to smile into his mouth. This kiss wasn't nearly so desperate, but it held the feeling of promise.

"Don't keep me waiting too long, Reverend," she said sweetly as she patted his chest and sniffled rather messily. "Love may be patient and kind, but I don't know that I can do both at the same time for very long."

John laughed out loud at this and pulled her to him, enveloping her in an all encompassing embrace. They rocked together for some time, enjoying the feel of their bodies pressed together. "You know what?" he whispered into her hair.

Anna hummed in query, smiling into his jacket.

"It's midnight in...Brazil, I suppose," he replied, showing her his watch.

"I suppose it is," Anna agreed with a grin. "Will you kiss me at midnight this time?"

His smile broadened as they watched the second hand on his watch tick inexorably closer to the top of the dial. They swayed together slowly, back and forth every few seconds, before John whispered. "Ten," he began.

"Nine," Anna answered. They alternated all the way until three, when she pushed herself up to give him a gentle kiss, her lips barely brushing his. They gave each other two more brief, yet sweet kisses before pulling away. "Well then, did that New Year's kiss mean something?"

"It did," he answered with a grin. "It meant that this year will be better than the last." Anna hummed and nodded at this. "Sadly though, I'm reminded again that I need to be awake in three and a half hours. Though I doubt I'll sleep a wink."

"Me either."

John leaned in and gave her one more sound kiss before he backed away from her and took her hands in his, kissing them both. "Wait for me," he begged her to promise again.

Anna nodded and blinked back tears that began anew. "Let me know when you get to your car," she said. "And when you get home and get settled. Else I'll worry. There are a lot of crazies out there tonight."

"I would, but I don't have your number," John frowned. He reached into his pocket to retrieve his phone, and Anna snatched it from his hands, typing quickly to add her number to his contacts. She smiled triumphantly and slipped it into his breast pocket, giving it a little pat.

"That solves that," Anna said with a smirk.

John chuckled before leaning in and kissing her on her cheek. "Happy New Year," he whispered.

"Happy indeed," Anna replied, eying him boldly as he turned to walk away.

**II.**

The drunk man didn't seem to be around anymore as John made his way back to his car with a decided spring in his step, even as he kept a close eye and ear on the darkness. He unlocked his car and got in, starting the engine and locking the doors before slipping his phone out of his pocket. He turned the phone around and held it out in front of him, tapping the shutter button several times. Finding a photo that didn't make him look like a lunatic, he attached it to his text.

_Safely in car. Thank you for tonight and understanding. Love you._

He hit send and waited until he got a response a minute later. It was a photo of Anna, grinning broadly and standing in what looked like her living room.

_Sweet dreams. Love you too._

John stared at her photo for a moment with a stupid grin on his face. "The sweetest," he murmured before thumbing through his contacts for Robert. Making sure he'd highlighted his number and not Anna's, he began typing.

_Need you to help me find Vera. It needs to end ASAP._

He turned his phone off and placed his hands on the steering wheel, gripping it tightly as emotion swelled up in him. His knuckles turned blindingly white, even in the darkness, before he let go and angrily smacked the dashboard, the stinging pain that shot up his forearm almost comforting.

He'd been a priest for less than a year, and he'd already committed a mortal sin. He was an adulterer.


	14. Chapter 14

**I.**

John arrived home close to three in the morning, opening the door quietly as to not scare Lacy. She barked anyway, not being used to him coming home at such a late hour. He quieted her down with a vigorous patting and pulled his phone out. "Lacy, sit," he told the big black dog. She sat down and cocked her head as he took a photo and sent it to Anna, smiling when he imagined what her reaction might be.

At the thought of her, he leaned heavily against the kitchen counter to steady himself. His heart had never felt lighter, yet contrarily more leaden in his life. He loved her. He had realized that in the moment that she took his hand in her office, felt that jolt to his heart that would have resurrected a cardiac patient. She kept him safe from the terrors that the sound of explosions were bringing him. It had taken every ounce of his resolve to not pull her to him in her office and kiss her with all of the passion he felt in the moment. His conscience and shame won out, and he thought he was safe from his wandering feelings for the rest of the evening.

Then he'd taken her home, and being confronted by the drunkard in the shadows had awakened the primal man within him. He felt the need to not only protect her, but to mark her as his, though he knew that he should be a much more measured person than his base instincts had made him. When she tried to put him off outside her doorway, his heart crumbled. The only thought he had in the moment was to tell her how he felt, whether she returned his love or not, even though he knew it was wrong to both profess and receive that sentiment. The moment the words left his lips and found her ears, he was too far gone to remain innocent. His heart had gone astray of his obligations to his past life.

The facts were sound. He was a married man. He was a priest who had taken his vows in good faith that he would not commit sin. He had fallen in love with a woman who was not his wife. Though they had never made love, never shared more than passionate kisses and furtive whispers and promises, he was an adulterer in his heart. He had sinned and broken a law of God, as far as he was concerned. If it ever let slip what he had done, what sort of man he truly was, he would be out the door of Downton and forced from the church as a whole before he could even pack his Bible away.

He hadn't loved Vera in years, not since the early days of their marriage almost thirty years ago. They got married because it seemed to be the thing to do, both of them being young and wanting someone to come home to at night. They stayed married because it was all either of them knew how to do. In the last few years they were together, they barely even spoke when he was home from his deployments. They only slept together when one or both of them were drunk or their urges got the better of them. He had lain beside her on more than one night, disgusted with himself, his bile rising from their twisted encounters. Yet he stayed with her because he was used to having her in his life, no matter how toxic they were together.

He had loved her in the beginning, when they were young and carefree. He wouldn't have married her if he hadn't. She liked being the wife of a rising officer in the S.A.S. and used it to her advantage. She became quite the fixture at the Officers' Clubs on whatever base they were assigned to. She was a social creature and made herself comfortable with whoever she needed to in order to secure herself in the pecking order. That meant sleeping with anyone who would have her and could be to her advantage, he discovered far too late in their marriage.

John found solace in the bottom of a bottle and the barrel of a gun. He let the adrenaline of training and combat be his drug when he was on duty and drank to excess when he was off. He would stumble in the door after celebrating the end of one of his multi-week training runs and fall into old habits with Vera. Sometimes she would welcome him into her body, sometimes she wouldn't even let him into the bed. She kept herself entertained with other men, and even women, and in the end, he'd finally had enough. She'd shamed and denigrated him one too many times. The last time he saw Vera was eight years ago, when he finally had incontrovertible evidence of her wandering affections, in the form of a wailing newborn that simple math and genetics proved was not his.

John fell into bed still wearing the tuxedo, not caring if he wrinkled it at this point. He didn't even bother taking his prosthetic off, though he ached from standing most of the night. As he stared at the dark ceiling of his bedroom, he murmured a prayer for forgiveness and asked for guidance in the coming days as he hopefully put the last painful chapter of his life to an end. He prayed to God for a sign that he was making the right choice.

His phone buzzed in his pocket and he nearly jumped out of his skin. He squinted at the bright screen until he could make out the words.

_About damned time. Stop by the office on the 2nd and we'll get started. Anna must be very persuasive. -RC_

If that wasn't a sign, he didn't know what was. His last thought before slipping into an all too brief sleep was of the beautiful angel that God had sent to him. He only hoped that she wasn't actually forbidden fruit made flesh.

**II.**

Anna yawned into her fist as she sipped her third cup of tea in an hour. She hadn't slept a wink all night, replaying the entire evening over and over in her mind. She could still smell his cologne on her hands, likely from when she dug her hands into his hair as they kissed. She found herself holding her hands to her face just to catch a faint whiff, even after she'd showered and washed up several times.

She'd spent a good portion of the morning tearing her apartment up, looking for her keys. She had a habit of dropping them where she stood, but swore she remembered putting them into her purse before leaving her flat the night before. Luckily, she had a spare set of door and car keys, so getting in and out and to and from work wouldn't be an issue until she had another set made. She returned the key to Mr. Patel and apologized again, offering him a plate of freshly baked biscuits. The elderly man was sweet and understanding about the situation. He did ask how her 'gentleman friend' was, and Anna pointedly told him that John was fine and went home soon after dropping her off.

As promised, John sent her a text when he got home, but instead of another photo of himself, it was a somewhat blurry photo of what she initially thought was a bear, with the caption _Home. Lacy says hello_ that made her giggle uncontrollably. She had received another text from Gwen sometime after three, saying she was also home safely, that she had a nice time with Iain, and would tell her all about it at work the next day, after she slept the whole day off. Anna was glad that at least one of them managed to get some sleep.

Anna chewed thoughtfully on her toast as she studied the photo of John that he'd sent her. Of course, the dark graininess and fisheye effect were doing him no favours, but she smiled as she looked at it nonetheless. There would be no doubt to anyone that he was definitely quite a bit older than her, though his eyes retained a mischieviously youthful sparkle that she adored. The wrinkles around his eyes were caused not only by stress and conflict, but by laughter and shrewdness. They greying at his temples was of no concern; her own father had gone grey in his thirties.

Her phone beeped and she blinked at it, her eyes burning with fatigue. She grinned like an idiot when she realized it was from John. He should be just finishing with his services for the day.

_How are you?_ he asked simply. He probably wanted to tread lightly, and so did she.

_Fine,_ she texted back. _Didn't sleep. Kept thinking if I went to sleep and woke up, it would all have been a dream._ She set the phone down and stared at it, her entire body tense as she awaited his response.

_Can I call you?_

Anna's heart skipped a beat as she sent her reply. Her finger hovered over the talk button until it lit up green. "Hi," she breathed nervously into the phone.

"Good afternoon," John greeted her, his smile cutting through the line. "How are you feeling?" She could hear him moving things around in the background.

"Exhausted," she admitted. "But good somehow. I think I'm getting my second wind."

John laughed softly. "I'm glad one of us is," he said, sounding quite worn out himself. "I did catch maybe an hour of rest before I had to get up for services this morning."

Anna raised one brow as she curled up on the couch. "Hmm. Were our friends, Madames Harris and Lawson there?" She rolled her eyes as she remembered their impertinence.

"Front and center," John huffed. "I think they were expecting me to call it in today. I've never felt so happy to disappoint someone in my life."

Anna giggled and bit at her thumb. "Did last night really happen?" she asked quietly.

John sighed and she heard the rustle of fabric. "Let's see," he mused. "I remember a party, and fireworks, of the literal and figurative sense. Ringing any bells?"

"A few," she snickered. "Go on. Refresh me a bit more."

"Hmm. We've already touched on subject of the rude ladies. Then there was something about an interrupted kiss at midnight, which we more than made up for exactly two hours later."

Anna closed her eyes and touched her lips as she remembered every minute detail about that moment. "That was very nice," she said.

"That it was."

"Did you mean what you said? Because I did," she said quietly.

John was silent for a heartrending amount of time. She could hear his breathing change, becoming more rapid and shallow. She frowned as the silence stretched out, and began to suspect that he had only been speaking in the moment. He hadn't meant it after all. Fear and doubt gripped at her heart.

"Anna," he said finally. "I said it then, and I'll say it now. I love you." He sighed, his breath sounding shaky and uneven. "I prayed on it last night when I got home. I prayed for us both."

"You make it sound as if we're doing a bad thing," Anna said, shaking her head. "You don't think we are, do you? I know I don't."

"Praying about something doesn't mean that there's wrong in it," John explained. "As a man of God, I feel as if I am held to a much higher standard. I have to be an example to my church."

"What greater example could there be than two responsible and consenting adults in love?" she asked carefully.

"None," he agreed, his smile clear in his voice. "I can think of nothing more beautiful in God's eyes. He made and keeps us because He loves us, and He sent and sacrificed His Son because of that same love." He sighed quickly and chuckled. "Sorry. I'm preaching again."

The idea of being beholden to the church and a higher power was a decidedly foreign concept to Anna, but she knew she had to make an effort to understand where John was coming from. It was an integral part of who he was, and if she was going to love him, she had to come to love all of him, even if she didn't necessarily agree with the doctrine he adhered to. It was sort of refreshing to think that he would measure everything carefully, not allowing either of them to misstep along the way. She'd rushed headlong into both of her previous long-term relationships without a care for what was necessarily wise or proper and it had only led to utter disappointment and heartbreak. There was something to be said for pursuing a relationship in an old-fashioned sort of way.

"No, it's okay," Anna said after thinking about it momentarily. "It's a part of who you are. If I'm going to love the dashing and dangerously handsome John Bates, I'll also love the pious Reverend as well."

"You're amazing, do you know that?" he breathed, the smile evident in his voice. "I thank God for you." He paused before chuckling lowly. "Dangerously handsome? I don't know that I've ever been described as the latter before. Dangerous, but never handsome."

Anna rolled her eyes. "Maybe not to that you've ever heard, but I've seen the way all the widows and bachelorettes look at you in church. Some of the married ones, too." She bit her lip and fought back a giggle. He was _hers_. She would need to step up her game when he was ready to go public with their relationship.

"It's a good thing that I've never given any of them a second glance, isn't it?" he almost purred. His voice was driving her insane as she felt an aching knot forming low in her belly, sending out tendrils of arousal. "But I don't want to give them more gossip fodder any time soon. I wouldn't want a repeat of that mess last night."

"Well, then, Reverend," Anna said with a little drawl. "You'll just need to pray for ways for us to see each other without prying eyes judging us, though I think that being alone together would lead to all sorts of other problems. Like you said, we shouldn't be letting ourselves get carried away for the time being."

He laughed into the phone, the richness of his amusement delighting her. "I wish I could see you tonight, but I don't think Robert has any more parties scheduled for quite some time. I miss you."

Anna scrubbed at her eyes, clearing away the tears that had been brimming. "We'll actually have to _plan_ for ways to see each other now instead of just running into each other. I hear that people do things like go to movies and have romantic dinners and the like. I hear that they even do these sorts of things _before_ declarations of love."

"Do they now?" he said in mock astonishment. "How about a visit to the town bazaar and perhaps lunch at Patmore's Cafe on Saturday? Keeping up appearances that we're simply friends for now, of course."

Anna thought about it and nodded. "Alright then, it's a date. A _secret_ date."

"Deal," John said. "I have a confession to make, though."

"Oh?"

"I knew you would be there last night. I wasn't even going to go to the party until Robert said you were going to be there."

Anna blushed hotly. "You had a plan all along, you silly beggar," she accused him.

"Guilty as charged."

"Fine," Anna said firmly. "I have a confession to make too, but I need to know if you're wearing your...priest things right now."

"I'm not," he said slowly.

"Too bad," she said in mock disappointment. "Because I was going to confess to having impure thoughts about a man I was with last night. _Very_ impure."

"You naughty girl," he said in an amazingly sensual drawl that made her shiver.

"So when you've settled whatever it is you have to settle, we'll talk about those thoughts some more," Anna said. "That is, if you don't think God will mind."

John groaned into the phone. "You're making it very difficult to be good, Anna," he rasped.

"I know," she giggled. "Now. I'm _exhausted_ and need to see if I can close my eyes for a bit."

John actually yawned, though he tried to hide it. "You're absolutely right. I think I should catch a nap myself. I'll talk to you tomorrow?"

"I have to work in the morning, so maybe tomorrow night?" Anna said after thinking on it.

"I look forward to it," John said cheerfully.

They bid their goodbyes, professions of love not rolling off the tongue automatically just yet. Anna pulled the blanket from the back of the couch over her and closed her eyes, to dream of the best man she'd known.

**III.**

Try as he did, sleep eluded him in the hours after he hung up the phone with Anna. He had actually been preparing to take a short afternoon nap after he finished the day's church services, but the urge to call and hear her voice was far too strong to fight. He needed to gauge her receptiveness first, so he sent her a quick text, and was relieved when she didn't put him off.

Now, after having talked to her, he lay back in his bed, staring at the play of light from the window on the wall. It was something he found himself doing often when he had to think, or when he needed to seek guidance from God. The window had four panes, divided into quadrants down and across the middle. Between two and three in the afternoon, he'd found, the light from the window cast the shadow of an angled cross on the wall. This was the time of day when he had his most profound and personal moments with his Creator.

As the sun changed its angle, the shadow faded, and the room filled with the amber glow of the afternoon. Yet he still couldn't sleep. Memories of the night before played back over and over in his mind, the constant loop both delighting and tormenting him. He needed someone else to talk to about his dilemma, someone who knew the struggles of a priest trying to balance love with the laws of God. He puffed his cheeks out in frustration before realizing he knew exactly who he could talk to, who had a deep, personal understanding that priests were human too, who had flaws and scars to battle with every day, just like the people they ministered to.

John swung his legs out from the bed and secured the prosthetic in place. He changed into a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, tossed Lacy a couple of dog biscuits, and headed out the door in search of his own spiritual guidance.

An hour later, he sat in front of Saint Andrew's Community Center, with a flood of memories rushing in to fill his head. The building hadn't changed much, other than it seemed a bit more run down than before. The familiar old Peugeot still sat outside, and John smiled, knowing that he would find the man he was looking for inside the building, just as he expected to. He stepped out of his car and pulled his jacket close around him to fight the biting wind that had blown in from the north since the morning.

He stepped into the old building, the smell of cleaning products and old furniture heavy in the air. He found his target exactly where he thought he would be, sitting in the very room that John found himself in so many years ago as he sought salvation from the bottle.

"I'm afraid you've just missed today's meeting," the man bent over a stack of papers called out without looking up.

"Pity," John replied with a smile. "Think you have time for a private counseling, Brother?"

Anthony Strallan looked up from his work suddenly, his surprise turning into glee as he stood up and held his hand out to John. "Brother John, as I live and breathe," he exclaimed with a toothy grin. "The prodigal son has returned."

John shook the older man's hand, then pulled him into a fierce embrace, thumping him on the back in camaraderie. "How are you, my friend?" he asked. "It's been too long."

"It has indeed," Anthony agreed, his face turning up with a huge grin again. To the casual observer, he was the happiest man one could ever meet, but John knew that most of Anthony's smiles and laughter were out of sheer nervousness. He was an awkward fellow that put a lot of people off, but he had a real love of God and a desire to help anyone in need. John himself had been unnerved by the man initially, but after several contemptuous counseling sessions with him, he warmed up to his quirks. He had been the person who helped John find his way with the church, as well as the one who shoved Lacy into his arms. No other person had put him so close to his path of redemption than Anthony Strallan.

"You look like you're still keeping busy," John said as he looked around at the empty trays of store-bought biscuits and bottled water on the table. _Come for the biscuits, stay for the salvation_, Anthony once said.

"Well, I suppose," Anthony sniffed, ducking his head. "Not as many programs right now. I don't know if having less people seeking help is a good thing or a bad thing. Sit?" He nodded at a metal folding chair near John, the same type that he had spent so many hours in, talking with his group and listening to their stories. As John took his seat, Anthony pulled up a chair and sat down himself. "How do you find your new church?" he asked.

"Incredible," John said truthfully. "The parishioners have been terrific and most welcoming. I'm certainly not stopping anyone from jumping off of a ledge like you do here," he said, nodding to indicate the sparse and rundown room, "but it feels good to be spreading the Word."

"I'm so delighted," Anthony replied with a laugh, slapping his knee. "So delighted. We all have our parts to play in God's story and I'm so glad you found yours. So what brings you here? I know it's not just for my company. I'll be the first to tell you that I'm a dreadful bore." He laughed disparagingly at himself.

John worked his jaw back and forth as he thought of how he should begin.

"It's not a crisis of faith, is it?" Anthony asked quickly, suddenly very serious. His grey eyes widened as he leaned forward intently.

"Not precisely," John said, folding his arms across his middle and sighing. "You're the only person I can think of who would understand what I'm going through right now."

Anthony frowned, his eyes darting back and forth before realization dawned. "You're having issues with weakness of the flesh, aren't you?" he said, very perceptively. "You've found some woman who you're keen on and you're wondering if it's all part of God's plan?"

As always, John was floored at how well Anthony could read people. "How do you _do_ that?" he asked in astonishment.

The older man laughed nervously, though the amusement never reached his eyes. "You spend a lot of time with people who have problems, and those problems practically jump out at me as soon as they enter the room. So what's her name? The one who has you questioning your faith."

John rolled his eyes and chuckled to himself. "Anna," he answered finally, staring at the ceiling. "And I wouldn't say I'm questioning my faith, just certain...restrictions that accompany it." He gave Anthony a brief history of meeting Anna, how he had begun to have feelings for her, and without too many details, the story of their time together the night before. Anthony listened intently, murmuring little words of encouragement every time John faltered in his speech or paused to think of a more delicate way of explaining his feelings.

"So what is she like, your Anna?" Anthony asked finally, after John got to the part about coming to see him for guidance.

"Incredible," John sighed. "She's warm, and giving, and a great listener. She makes me laugh. I told her about Iraq, and my leg, and the addictions, and she never flinched or wavered, not even once. She's infuriatingly tenacious. She somehow still says she loves all of me, even though she's not religious herself. She accepts me for who I am, who I was, and who I will become."

Anthony leaned forward and narrowed his eyes. "You love her, don't you?"

"I do," John admitted, with a mixture of pride and shame.

"Do you want to know how I know you really love her?" Anthony whispered, a little grin spreading across his face.

"How?"

"When I asked you to describe her, you never said a word about her physical attributes."

John smiled broadly as he closed his eyes and thought about how gorgeous she was. "That's because there _are_ no words that can describe how beautiful she is," John mused, his eyes burning with the sting of tears. "She's exquisite. Far too beautiful for an ugly old bloke like me."

"If she's as perfect as you say, and you love each other, why are you seeking counseling from me?"

John leveled his gaze at his friend, knowing that he was unfortunately opening old wounds. "Because I'm still married to my wife, even if we haven't so much as spoken in eight years."

Anthony exhaled slowly, realization dawning in his grey eyes. They stared a thousand miles into the distance, never blinking. "Yes," he said haltingly. "Yes, I suppose it makes sense why you're here then. I may have quite a bit of insight as to what you're going through."

John nodded silently, rubbing the back of his neck. "I couldn't seek counsel from someone in the diocese. It can't go up the ladder."

Anthony's lips pressed together grimly in a pale line. "Don't I know all about that sort of thing?" he said, huffing quickly. "Though I would hope our circumstances are different. You haven't…" He trailed off and waved his hand vaguely. "With Anna, I mean. Not meaning to pry, of course."

"No," John said sharply. "We haven't. Honestly though, I don't think it would take much for either of us to fall over that cliff. The attraction I feel for her..." He stopped himself from saying more. It was one thing to think about them, and another to voice his urges.

"Of course you know Matthew 5:28," Anthony reminded him gently.

"_But I say to you that everyone who looks at a woman with lustful intent has already committed adultery with her in his heart," _John recited from memory. The same verse had been swirling around in his head all night and all day.

"You must be discreet with your affections. Chaste even."

"I know," John sighed.

Anthony frowned. "And what about Vera? Her name is Vera, if I remember correctly? Have you filed for divorce?"

"I intend to," John said confidently. "As soon as my solicitor can find her. I put it off so long because…" He frowned and stared at the flickering fluorescent lights above him. "At first it was laziness, and then simply not wanting to dredge up the past for no reason. And then when I entered the seminary, the idea of divorce became vulgar to me, no matter how vulgar our marriage _itself _had become. We didn't even have a marriage anymore. Especially after she had another man's child."

"My dear fellow," Anthony laughed, almost uproariously. "Our entire church was founded because some fat bastard wanted a divorce. In fact," he wheezed in amusement, "the Church of England itself is a product of divorce. We left the Catholic Church because it just wasn't working out and we wanted to see other people. If that's not a ringing endorsement for personal divorces, I don't know what is."

John laughed heartily with his friend. He'd never really thought about it that way. "But do you understand where I'm coming from? I've technically committed adultery in the eyes of the Lord."

"Did you get married in a church?" Anthony asked.

"No."

"Did a minister marry you?"

John frowned and shook his head. "It was at the county registrar's office in Brighton, when I had three days leave from the Army. The clerk had us sign papers, read her lines from a card, and off we went, unhappily ever after."

"Then so far as I and God are concerned, it was never holy matrimony to begin with," Anthony said with a shrug.

"You're parsing the definition," John chided him.

"Am I?" Anthony said, a little hint of triumph in his voice. "Technicalities are both wonderful and terrible, aren't they?" He rubbed his hands together. "Look, John, I'll never tell you who to love or who to cast aside. God knows I'm not an expert in that sort of thing. I will warn you, from personal experience, to tread lightly, lest the diocese find out and strip you of your title. You must wait until you are no longer married on paper or in the eyes of God before taking any sort of further steps with your lovely Anna."

John sighed and nodded in understanding. "The woman you were with, have you ever heard from her? After it all ended for you?"

"Not after the decision from the Archbishop was handed down," Anthony said sadly. "I was a diversion from her other problems. I don't blame her, really. She was excited that she'd taken up with a man who she thought loved her, and as such, she told her friends about it. I can only blame myself for having relations with another woman while Maude lie wasting away in a nursing home." He stared out the window onto the dingy street beyond. "I knew the risks when I lost myself in a woman seeking my counsel for her addictions. It's funny how she traded substance abuse for sex addiction. I was too blinded by lust and too weak to recognize it, and I can blame only myself."

"And you never filed an appeal with the diocese?"

Anthony snorted. "Who could I have appealed to? It was the Archbishop of York himself who stripped me of my church and banished me from the pulpit. It wasn't the sin so much as who I committed the sin with, a woman who sought my help for her addictions. I could have appealed to God until my face turned blue, but it would have done no good. I was branded by my own lust and the laws of God, as they are interpreted by men." He leaned forward and looked at John sternly. "Do not make the same mistake as I did, my friend. Get right with God and the church first, before you carry on any further. You've sinned, that much is for certain, but by recognizing it, you can keep it from tainting your love for her any further. Imagine the pain you would feel if that same love caused you to lose everything you've worked so hard for these past few years."

John listened intently, as he had years ago when he'd first sought out the counsel of the former Reverend Strallan. He didn't know at the time that Anthony was struggling with his own demons, and within a few months was excommunicated from the church. The older man spoke from experience, his mistake of falling into the arms of another woman leaving him with nothing but a leaky and cold community center and a room full of addicts and discarded paper products on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

"How is Maude?" John finally asked, the question having been on his mind since he arrived.

Anthony's eyes drooped sadly. "Much the same," he said with a sigh. "She hasn't even looked at me in ten years, or known my name in fifteen. Alzheimer's is the cruelest of diseases. To rob the mind while the body remains an empty shell. I'll never divorce her and I'll never stray from her again, even if she doesn't know who I am or what I've done. The home that she's in takes good care of her, and I'll still visit her every evening, until one of us has gone." He barked out an ugly laugh. "It's strange. I think I talk to her more now than I did before she became ill. We never had a great deal in common."

"I'm sorry you've had to bear such a burden," John said, his eyes welling in sympathy.

"I've known love," Anthony said with a wistful smile. "I've known loss. You've known them as well. This love you have now, treasure it, so long as you can." His smile broadened. "True love is a gift from God, John."

"_She_ is a gift from God," John replied, a smile splitting his face. "I still can't believe the way my life has changed in a matter of months, between finding my place at Downton, and then finding her. It's as if I've almost found my place in the world."

"Then perhaps you'll find your place together," Anthony said, clapping his hand on John's shoulder.

The idea of both made John's heart soar, and he returned to the pastor's cottage that evening with a much lighter burden on his shoulders. He was finally beginning to see the sun through the clouds, after years of staring at the sky, looking for his own version of heaven.


	15. Chapter 15

**I.**

Anna could think of no better way that she could have begun the new year. She was beginning a new job today, one that she hoped would free her from the drudgery and general nastiness of her previous place of employment. She was being touted as a highly valued and integral part of the team at the new Crawley Law Firm, and the simple fact that she was finally getting recognition for her efforts lifted her spirits in ways that she could never have predicted only a month ago.

Of course, the most wonderful part of the new year was having John in her life, also something that she couldn't have imagined a month, or even a week ago. The evening they'd spent together at New Year's had been magical, as they'd found themselves confronting and confirming their feelings for each other. Even with all of the heartache and pain that the night had brought, she wouldn't change a thing about it. They had to face the sorrow of losing one another before they could realize and admit their love for each other. Anna could honestly not remember another time in her life so wonderful as the moments when they confessed their feelings.

And now, two days later, she watched the clock in her office impatiently, as a schoolgirl would watch for the bell to end class. The day couldn't end fast enough. She ached to hear his voice again. They had agreed to take things a bit slowly, in respect for his position, whatever that meant. She knew that dating a vicar would come with a special set of challenges, and that it would likely not progress in any way, shape, or form like a typical relationship. There was something else about John's hesitation though, but she decided she would not press him on it, at least not early on. She couldn't promise either to him or to herself that she would continue to be patient for long.

The first case to cross her desk that morning was a simple one. A father fighting for custody rights, who felt that the family courts system had failed him. She did her due diligence by looking into the mother and her life, which ended up being more sordid than Anna cared to think about, before passing on the information she'd gathered to Matthew, who would then take up the case in court. The firm would take on cases that Robert and Matthew felt were just. The idea of fighting for the little man, the oppressed person, and the wrongly accused and convicted held great appeal for Anna, and she knew that she'd absolutely made the right decision in coming to work for the firm.

The office was a nice perk, though.

Her stomach rumbled and she glanced at her watch. She had a light afternoon of work ahead of her, being that the firm hadn't many clients as of yet, and she decided that she had plenty of time to step out to get lunch. Perhaps she could even spend the entire hour away, rather than eating at her desk as O'Brien and Barrow had required her to do. She gathered up her purse and coat and set off for the lobby.

Mary emerged from her office across from Anna's, smiling prettily and glancing down at Anna's coat draped across her arm. "Off to lunch?" she asked cheerfully. Thank God the other woman's mood was brighter today. Anna didn't think she could have handled it if she and Matthew hadn't come to some sort of terms with each other.

"I was just going to head out to that sandwich shop up the street," Anna replied, nodding her head as she slung her purse strap across her shoulder. "Want me to bring you something back? I don't mind."

Mary cocked her head to the side and smiled with raised brows. "Actually, I was about to head down there myself," she answered, steepling her fingers together. "Would you like some company? We can eat there."

"Of course," Anna smiled back warmly. "We can get to know each other better, I suppose."

Mary's face brightened considerably. "I'd really like that. Let me grab my coat."

A few minutes later, they were headed out the door. Anna stopped by Gwen's desk to ask if she wanted anything from the shop. Gwen gave them both the once over, and an expression that said to Anna that she would be getting both the third degree later as well as an interrogation. She held up her plastic container filled with leftovers in answer as the phone began ringing. Anna felt guilty that Gwen couldn't get out for a lunch break until they hired a second secretary, hopefully in the next few weeks. She also knew that Gwen would be intensely jealous of her spending time with Mary. If there was one thing that the normally confident Gwen Dawson was insecure about, it was that Anna should drift away from her.

The sandwich shop was a simple little place, with a counter and stools across the back and a few tables along the front windows. They took their seats at a table up front near the door and placed their orders with a polite young girl. Anna's stomach rumbled again at the thought of the turkey sandwich she'd decided on.

"So," Mary said slowly. "Which one of us is going to be the first to bring up the obvious?"

Anna quirked her eyebrow at the other woman. "I'm not sure I'm following you?" she asked. "You mean you and Matthew?"

"I could also mean you and John," Mary countered, her smile turning into a wry smirk as she watched Anna's surprised reaction.

Anna managed to bring herself back around quickly. "I'd rather talk about you and Matthew," she replied pointedly.

Mary huffed a little laugh. "Fair enough," she said with a roll of her dark eyes. "Since that was quite the spectacle the other night." She sighed and looked out the window as she sipped from her glass of ice water. "We talked it over quite a bit. I'm not ready to be engaged to him, in all honesty, and he knows that now. He put the ring in a safe place, and when we think we're _both_ ready to pursue the idea again, we'll give it another go. Who knows, perhaps I'll propose to him instead."

Anna smiled in relief. It would have been very awkward for the two of them to not settle things between them, given that they all had to work together. It was enough that Anna felt as if she had to walk on eggshells after he and Lavinia broke up, but to go through all of that again would have driven her absolutely insane.

"Do you really think you'll marry him someday?" Anna asked, genuinely curious.

The waitress brought their food out then, giving Mary a few precious moments to measure her response. "I think so," she said with a happy sigh as she poured dressing over her salad. "I mean, we've only known each other for a few months, but it feels natural between us. Mama keeps telling me how much nicer I am since I met him, as if I was some sort of wretched beast before he came along." She rolled her eyes again. "But I'm enormously happy with him, and I can't quite explain it. I feel as if I don't deserve to be this happy."

Anna knew exactly what Mary meant, feeling the same way about herself and John. She'd been through such anguish recently, with the death of her mother, and before that the overdue end to her life with her last boyfriend, Steven, and before that, the even more heart wrenching end of her relationship with Marcus, her university boyfriend. She was beginning to think that, at the ripe old age of thirty-four, she would never find the right man. Yet here she was, having lunch with the woman who was not only one of her bosses, but the adoptive niece of the most wonderful man who she had ever had the pleasure of meeting, who had confessed his requited love for her only two nights ago.

"Matthew is a terrific guy," Anna said between bites of her sandwich. "He was so excited when he told me he was proposing. I'll admit that I was apprehensive then, but he was absolutely set on it."

Mary's eyes widened in shock. "So you knew he was going to propose and you didn't warn me?" she asked with a little playfulness in her voice.

"Proposals are supposed to be a surprise," Anna replied with a quirky smile. "Besides, I barely knew you at that point, and it didn't feel right to just call you up and say 'allo, Matthew's about to pop the question.'"

The other woman groaned. "I almost wished you had," she said. "If I had known it was coming, I probably would have said yes. As it is, we'll have a bit of a rough patch until things are back to one-hundred percent between us. Not to mention the fact that my father is a completely unobservant clod sometimes."

Anna chortled, almost spitting her food out. She delicately wiped her mouth with a napkin. "Did he _really_ not know about you and Matthew? I mean, _really?_"

Maty buried her face in her hands in shame. "Unbelieveable," she laughed. "I think even if we'd gotten matching shirts with arrows pointing to one another, I don't know that he would have gotten it. He can be quite slow on the uptake."

"John said the same thing, except with neon arrows," Anna pointed out, regretting it as soon as it came out of her mouth.

Mary smiled somewhat triumphantly as her eyes narrowed. "Now it's your turn," she said. "What about you and John?"

Anna took a large sip of water before speaking, her throat suddenly parched. "John and I...we, umm…"

"You get on very well, it seems," Mary interrupted before Anna could get the words out.

"Well enough, I suppose?" Anna replied. "I mean, we haven't spent a great deal of time together, but that should all change soon enough." She took a deep breath and plunged on. "Without saying too much, I really, _really_ like him. There's something quite special about him."

Mary was silent for several seconds, staring at her plate and picking aimlessly with her fork. "Anna, how well do you know him? About his past?" she asked quietly. There was something about the tone of her voice that worried Anna.

"I mean, I don't know what his favourite colour is, or how he takes his coffee, but we're getting to know each other," she answered, almost defensively. "I know about Iraq, and his leg. I know about his nightmares. I know what drove him to seek out something greater than himself. And I know that he's a wonderful, wonderful man who I care very deeply for." She took a shuddering breath as her eyes clouded over and her throat clenched.

Mary reached out and put her hand over Anna's on the table. "He _is_ a wonderful man," she agreed with a little smile. "I just want to make sure you know his past."

"I know enough about his past," Anna said quickly, defiantly. "I know his present, and I'd very much care to be a part of his future."

The dark haired woman sitting opposite her nodded and smiled with thin-pressed lips. "I hope you make each other happy then," she said. "God knows he deserves happiness after so many years of misery."

The rest of the meal was spent in near silence as Anna stared out the window onto the street and the people who passed them by. She was suddenly second-guessing herself. What sort of fool falls in love with a man who she truly knows nothing about? And why had Mary put such a doubt in her heart?

**II.**

John stepped into the opulent lobby of the Crawley Law firm and removed his flat-brimmed hat, pressing it against his chest as he looked around. The place was so much different in the daytime, as the sun filtered through the leaded glass windows and filled the large space with light. His steps echoed off the polished marble floors, his left and right legs' tones just a little different sounding as he approached the wide desk, where Anna's red-haired friend, Gwen, sat talking on the phone.

She gave him a little apologetic smile and held one finger in the air as she wrapped up her call to a prospective client, scheduling an appointment. She hung up the phone and fixed him with a beaming smile. "Welcome to the Crawley Law Firm, Mister…"

"Bates," John offered as he unbuttoned his long coat and removed his scarf. "John Bates. I don't have an appointment, but Robert Crawley said I should come by now."

Gwen's eyes widened as she took in his entire form, her gaze going up and down and back up again quickly and her mouth dropping open. Well, that settled that question. Anna had obviously mentioned him to her.

"Miss?" John smiled gently, trying to break her of her stupor.

"Oh," Gwen exclaimed, shuffling a stack of papers in front of her. "John Bates, you said?" Her eyes fixed on his white collar before returning to his face. "_Reverend_ John Bates?"

"You seem as if you've seen a ghost," John quipped. "Don't get many vicars coming around here, do you, Gwen? It is Gwen, am I right?"

Gwen stammered a little as her mouth opened and closed without actually making any words. Just then, Robert poked his head around the corner of a door and waved his hand. "I thought I heard your voice," he called from two doors down. "Come on into my office and we'll get started."

John motioned his thanks to Gwen with a wave of his hat before following Robert into his office. To say that it was opulent was an understatement. This was obviously the room he brought clients to impress them. Robert was a firm believer that appearances could be just as important as the law itself. A well-maintained and appointed office could make a huge psychological difference in client and petitioner alike. For John's own part, he found it a great deal over the top and made sure to hide his distaste. He was a simple man these days, with minimalistic tastes. The money Robert spent on this building and office could have gone to far better use somewhere else.

Despite his disfavour, he could appreciate some of the design. He closed the door behind him and looked around at the dark paneling and intricately carved woodwork. The entire room was made to feel like an estate or castle, reminding John of the great libraries he'd enjoyed touring when he traveled around Europe for training while in the Army. While the rest of his men preferred to take up with the local women and beverages, he preferred to spend his time sightseeing in his precious few days off before heading back home. It calmed him and helped prepare him for the whatever version of Vera awaited him. The heavy drinking had come on later, as every trip home resulted in a storm of turmoil between them.

"You're sure that Anna is at lunch?" John asked, looking out the window nearest to him. The grey skies that had rolled yesterday were beginning to clear, and it looked like the weekend would be lovely. Just what he wanted for a casual stroll outside with Anna at the monthly town bazaar.

Rob nodded and gestured for John to take a seat in a high-backed leather wingchair. "I had Mary take her out for a while," he replied as he grabbed a manila folder from his desk. "We should have enough time to get this sorted before she gets back." He grinned slyly and looked John up and down. "She must have done something _very_ convincing for you to finally get your head out of your ass."

"She did nothing but remind me that there are still wonderful people in this world," John replied with a tiny smile.

Robert grunted as he handed the folder to John and sat down in the other chair. "Vera wasn't too difficult to find, thanks to the internet. Even without calling on my lead researcher, I managed to find her fairly quickly."

John opened the folder and stared at the divorce decree before him. "Where is she?" he asked as he skimmed the document.

"Too close for comfort, I'm afraid. For the past six months or so, she's been living near Catterick," Robert replied. "And for two years before that, in Aldershot. Tidworth before that."

John frowned and tapped his pen against paper. "She's staying close to Army installations," he mused. "I suppose she's still hung up on landing herself a general or some such nonsense."

Robert nodded in agreement. "Seems she lived with a man at every base, even followed one fellow from Aldershot to Catterick, before changing her address again, presumably when she broke things off with him. Her current address is shared with a Lieutenant Colonel." Robert snorted and glanced upward. "Who, by the way, is currently married to his wife, who lives in Sheffield with their children while he's stationed in Catterick for a year. I would think this should come as a welcome surprise for her, assuming she wants to take up seriously with someone else eventually. I'm sure money will become a factor as there's no record of her holding a job in the past three years."

John huffed as he scrawled his signature at the bottom of every page. "Remember, this is Vera we're talking about," he sighed. "Rationality was never her strong suit." He closed the folder and passed it back to Rob. "How long should this take?"

Rob scratched his head and frowned. "I can have her served with papers by the end of the day. Assuming she doesn't contest the divorce, being as you've been separated for eight years and you have proof that she committed adultery, we can get it fast-tracked for thirty to forty-five days, instead of the standard four months. I have a friend down at the clerk's office who owes me quite a few favours, so with any luck, you could be free to pursue your heart's desire by, oh, say, Valentine's Day?"

While John felt relief at the thought of a very quick divorce, he knew that things with Vera would never be simple as that. If she wanted a divorce, she would have sought him out by now herself. He had the nagging suspicion that he was in for a fight.

John leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes, sighing heavily and sending a prayer for a swift resolution up to heaven. His collar suddenly felt tight around his neck and he ran his index finger under it for some relief. With another sigh, he reached into his inner breast pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper, handing it over to Rob.

"What's this about?" Rob asked, settling his glasses on the bridge of his nose to read it.

John's lips quirked upward slightly. "It's just the contract between the church and the roofing repair company."

Rob frowned as he skimmed the contents of the page. "Everything seems to be in order here," he said slowly. "Why should I need to look over it?" He folded the contract back into thirds and passed it back to John.

"Plausible deniability," John replied, waggling his eyebrows. Rob seemed thoroughly confused as John stood up and offered his hand. "I would love to stay and chat, but I have an appointment with a young couple looking to get married at the church. Thank you for helping me with the...situation." He had a hard time saying the word divorce out loud. He hoped it would ease in time. They stepped out into the hallway together, John eager to get out of the office before Anna got back.

**II.**

Anna finished her lunch fairly quickly, while Mary infuriatingly took her time eating, savouring every morsel. She finally finished her salad, and as Anna asked for their bills, Mary asked to see a dessert menu. "I don't think I could possibly eat another bite," Anna said with a groan, wondering how on Earth Mary thought she could put away the double fudge brownie she'd just ordered. She checked her purse for her phone and sighed when she remembered that she'd left it on her desk. A glance at her watch made her realize how much later they'd been out than she'd intended. "I really should get on back to the office," she apologized to Mary as she slipped twelve quid under the bill. "I have a webinar coming up that I'd like to have a look in on."

Mary's eyes widened and she smiled thinly. "Of course. I'll just wait for my dessert and head back alone." Her emphasis on the word _alone_ made Anna feel slightly guilty, so she settled herself back in her chair to wait another few minutes until Mary's dessert arrived. Then she waited another few minutes for the server to bring her a takeout box for it. And another minute while Mary fumbled around in her wallet for exact change to pay the bill. All in all, ten minutes went by before they finally left the cafe and headed back up the street to the office building.

Upon entering the lobby, she was met with Gwen's frantic waving and wide eyed panic. Mary disappeared into her office quickly, leaving Anna standing in the lobby with only Gwen's animated flailing for company.

"I've been texting and calling you for the past half hour!" she said in a hoarse whisper.

"I left my phone at my desk. Honestly, Gwen," Anna said, frowning in disbelief at her friend. "What's got into you?"

"He's here!" Gwen hissed, looking sidelong toward the hallway.

"Who's here?"

"Your Reverend," Gwen replied with a downright goofy expression. "John. He's in with Robert right now."

Anna pointed at the floor. "John is _here_? Right now?" Her face grew hot and she broke into a silly grin, trying desperately to hold back her excitement.

"You and I have a _lot_ to talk about, Anna May," Gwen chided her as the phone rang. She went to answer it and Anna slipped away down the hall, her heels clicking loudly on the floor.

John and Robert stepped out of the open door of Robert's office just as she approached it as casually as possible. His face was a mixture of surprise and delight as he noticed her. He was wearing his simple black vicar's garb, complete with collar, and had a heavy wool coat slung over his arm, with his hat in hand.

"Anna," he said cheerfully, his face brightening.

Anna blushed ten shades of crimson, she could feel it. "John...Reverend Bates," she said with a glance toward Robert, who looked as if he wanted to be anywhere but in that hallway at that particular moment. "This is a lovely surprise. What brings you down here?"

John patted his chest, the crinkle of paper rustling through the fabric of his blazer. "I just needed Robert to look over a contract for the church," he said, gesturing toward his friend.

Robert frowned and nodded his head. "Yes, yes, the contract is good," he said with a raised brow. "Plausible even." He looked back and forth between the two of them and smiled briefly. "Well then, I have to get back to my office. I'll miss church this Sunday, Reverend. Mary and I have a charity function in London that afternoon."

"I understand," John murmured to his friend. They nodded their goodbyes at each other and he turned to Anna.

They were left relatively alone in the corridor, with Gwen at one end, and Mary and Robert talking quietly to each other at the other. Anna looked up at John, her heart racing as she took in his slightly mussed hair, likely from his hat, and his generally welcoming appearance. "Do you have a few minutes?" she asked a bit nervously. "To come down to my office?"

John smiled warmly and glanced at his watch. "I have to get back soon," he said before lowering his voice. "But I can always spare a little time for you."

Anna beamed and led the way around the corner to her door, scanning her thumbprint and admitting them both. She made sure the door was closed behind them before turning to him and raising her hand to cup his face.

His own had quickly came up and clasped her hand, bringing it away from his cheek to kiss her knuckles, then holding it to his chest. His warm gaze was making her feel all sorts of inappropriate as she glanced down at the white priest's collar and back up to his eyes.

"Seems we can thank Robert for throwing us together again," she whispered, bringing her other hand up to smooth over his chest, warm through his shirt and blazer.

"We keep meeting like this," John chuckled, rubbing the skin of the back of her hand with his thumb.

"And here I thought you made up an excuse to come down to see me," she grinned, ducking her head.

John hesitated for just long enough to make her wonder. "I legitimately had some business to take care of with Robert," he explained. He lowered his hand from where he held hers against his chest, but never let go of his grip, holding her index and middle fingers and swaying his arm slightly as he spoke. "Seeing you was a bonus. I didn't want to interrupt you at work, so I was trying to slip in and out of the office."

"And I would have been heartbroken if I'd found out you'd come and gone without being able to see you," Anna said as she rolled her eyes. "Gwen figured out who you are. She's probably out there bouncing off the walls wondering what we're up to in here."

John chuckled and lifted their joined hands again, staring at her fingers. "I wouldn't want her to worry about you. I have an appointment to get to, and I know you have work to do, so…" He glanced up at her pointedly, the disappointment and reluctance showing on his face.

She sighed mournfully, knowing that this time together was entirely too brief, given what they'd shared two nights ago. She yearned to spend more time with him, and something as simple as the idea of just curling up on a couch and watching a movie was enough to send her heart soaring. She nodded and squeezed his hand before letting go, her fingers immediately missing the warmth. She cleared her throat and crossed her arms across her chest. "Yeah, I do have some things to work on this afternoon," she said, her throat aching. "Do you still want to talk on the phone tonight?"

"Of course," John smiled gently. "I have Eucharist at six and Bible study at seven, but I should be free around nine, if that's not too late?" At Anna's head shake of acceptance, he leaned in and brushed his lips to her cheek, lingering for just a moment. "I'll call you then. I look forward to it, and to Saturday, if you'd still like to have lunch?"

Anna's cheek tingled where his light stubble brushed it. She blushed hotly and ducked her head, tugging at her hair. "I can't wait," she gushed like a teenage girl. She was tempted to rise up on her toes and kiss him soundly, but the barrier of the white collar was too far for her to surmount at the moment, not to mention his earlier talk of needing to take things slowly while he sorted things out with God.

John seemed to notice her hesitation and took her hand again, kissing her knuckles. "It won't be long, I promise," he whispered.

She nodded and pulled his hand to her lips, opening his fingers and kissing his palm in a reverent gesture. He drew in a sharp breath at the touch of her lips, and let his fingertips graze her cheek lovingly. His eyes narrowed as a line of tears brimmed his lashes.

"Until tonight," Anna said with a tiny little smile.

John barely managed a weak smile in return before he spun on his heel and left the office, leaving Anna perplexed as to the inner turmoil he seemed to be wrestling with. She felt her own eyes brim with tears and wiped them away. Here they were, just two days out from admitting their feelings, and he was still acting strangely, running away from her again. She let out a bitter huff of laughter and went to sit down behind her desk.

Her mobile was flashing with unread messages, so she wiped her eyes again and opened home screen. Six messages and three missed calls, all from Gwen, spaced minutes apart.

_John is here! _

_Are u there?_

_your priest is here. right now. get back here._

_ANNA ANSWER YOUR PHONE_

_omg i hope u and your bff mary are having fun. john is here btw. not that you care. you're too busy with lady mary. whatever_

_omg anna he's really hot in a fatherly sort of way. CALL ME_

Anna fought back the laughter that threatened to break out. She took a few moments to compose herself before tucking her phone in her suit jacket pocket and headed out to the lobby to mend fences with her best friend.


	16. Chapter 16

**I.**

As promised, John called her at 8:54 that evening. Anna picked up on the first ring, and John smiled broadly, imagining her sitting with the phone beside her awaiting his call. He tucked the phone under his shoulder and stretched his good leg out on the table in front of his sofa.

"Hello," Anna breathed huskily.

"Hi," John replied with a smile. "How are you? Not spending your entire evening waiting for a boy to call are you?" he teased.

Anna snorted, though he knew she was probably blushing from being called out. "Maybe I was, maybe I wasn't," she said defensively, laughing quickly. "Maybe I had my phone in my hand because I was playing a game, or texting Gwen."

He slouched on the sofa and crossed his arms as Lacy took up her usual spot next to him. "Ah yes, Gwen, whom I rendered speechless this afternoon. How is she taking things? I know you got an earful from her."

"I got an interrogation, is what I got. She kept asking me all of these questions about you that I came to realize that I don't even know the answers to myself. I could only answer what I knew from talking to you or that article about you joining the church."

John's eyebrows shot up. Of course, there was a great deal that neither of them knew about each other. The more he thought about it, the worse he felt. If he was to give his heart to this enchanting woman, he should know everything about her. What made her tick, the things that she felt passion for, what turned her on and off. He smiled and ran his hand through his hair. "Alright then, ask me anything you want. And in turn, I get to ask anything _I_ want," he said. He was both looking forward to and dreading this conversation.

Anna hummed in thought, drawing it out dramatically. "What's your favorite colour?" she asked simply.

He laughed out loud. "That's what you're opening with?" he teased.

"I figured that's innocent enough. Hard to keep secrets with a question like that."

"Fair enough," John agreed. "I would say Manchester Red, but it's really dark blue. Yours?"

"Green," Anna said quickly. "What's your favorite season?"

"Ah, ah, ah," John chided. "It's _my_ turn. I'll let you pass this time. Autumn, because of the coolness of the air and the smell of the leaves." He hesitated for a moment before smiling wistfully. "I met you in autumn."

Her breathless laugh broadened his smile. "I was going to say summer, but you've made a great case for autumn."

"My turn," he said triumphantly. "Favourite album."

"_The Joshua Tree_," Anna replied without hesitation.

John sat up abruptly, his mouth dropping open. "You're kidding," he said in disbelief.

"Truly."

His cheeks ached, he was smiling so hard. "Could you be more perfect?" he mused.

Anna giggled, her peals of laughter making him chuckle in turn. "You weren't expecting that were you?"

"Absolutely not."

"Well, Reverend Bates," she said. "I can tell you with all honesty, that the closest I've ever come to feeling the presence of God and having a religious experience was sitting on the beach in Scarborough, listening to it as the sun came up. I felt this sense of calm wash over me, and I hadn't felt that detachment from my emotions in quite some time." She groaned slightly. "The first three songs are perfect, but then I got to _Bullet the Blue Sky_ and it all sort of fell apart and the moment was gone."

"I always skip that one," John agreed. "But I would have pegged you more as a _Beautiful Day_ era girl."

"Hmm, not really. _Joshua Tree_ is a classic and special to me because it was the last album by father bought before he died. I inherited his music collection. He'd just bought his first CD player, in fact, and it was his first CD. I've got a lot of old vinyls from him that are stored away at my Mum's house, but that album was my favorite. _Achtung Baby_ is terrific also, even if _One_ is one of the most misunderstood and misused wedding songs ever."

John chuckled and closed his eyes as he had a vision of her turning her face to the sun as it broke over the horizon. He imagined himself sitting down in the sand with her as the music played and putting his arm around her to watch the new day being born. It was as close to a perfect fantasy as he could think of. "And why were you sitting in the sand in Scarborough at sunrise, listening to Irish rock music?" he asked.

"I'll give you a pass because that's a followup to the previous question," Anna said pointedly. She sighed heavily and said nothing for several seconds. "It was after a bad breakup," she said finally. "My first serious relationship. I was twenty-two, and in my last year of university. My mum decided that I needed some time by the sea to relax. I ended up not sleeping at all the first night I was there, so grabbed my Walkman and walked down to the beach at four in the morning."

"What happened?" John asked quietly. "With the guy, I mean. Unless you don't want to talk about it."

He could practically hear her thinking it over. "I was serious about him, he wasn't serious about me," she said flatly. "It was as simple as that. He had been going behind my back most of the relationship, but I was too blinded by love to see him for what he was."

John passed his hand over suddenly weary eyes. He knew exactly what she had gone through. Sometimes he thought he loved Vera much longer than she loved him. After all, she was the one who cheated throughout the relationship, starting just a couple of years into the marriage. Though he had been tempted, he never strayed. Even in his darkest days, when he could have easily had his choice of women, he couldn't bring himself to do it. And God knew he'd had plenty of opportunity. It was a silly point of pride for him, especially now that he'd found his way with God and the church.

"He was an idiot," John said grimly. "I can't imagine any man who would be so foolish as to treat you so poorly."

Anna barked a humourless laugh. "Well, there were two foolish men. Him and my last ex. I don't think it hurt as badly the second time around because I suppose I was expecting it. I had this idea that all men inevitably cheat." She fell silent for several moments before continuing quietly. "I don't get that feeling with you. And it's nothing to do with the fact that you're a vicar. I don't think that's in your character."

John broke into a cold sweat at her words and scrubbed his hand over his mouth. She obviously had trust issues as a result of being cheated on twice and had come to expect it in a relationship. And here he was, a married man, though hopefully not for much longer, trying his best to keep her from thinking he was just the same as the other men she'd been with. He had been debating telling her about Vera gently, not that he was actively seeking a divorce, but that he'd been married in the past, but now? He swallowed thickly and screwed his face tightly, cursing his foolishness in the most Christian way he could manage.

"Are you there?" Anna asked quietly, her words halting.

"I'm here," he replied quickly. "I'm just thinking that any man who would hurt you is an idiot who doesn't deserve you."

She continued to talk, and the conversation turned to more mundane things, like movies and pets they'd had growing up. Even as they talked, he could only hope and pray that he never had the misfortune proving her theory about men correct.

He also didn't want to prove that he didn't deserve her.

**II.**

Saturday came soon enough, and it was another unseasonably warm day for early January. Anna had gone out to her car, only to find that she'd apparently left her interior light on and had drained the battery, which was strange since she'd arrived home last night while it was still light outside and couldn't remember the last time she'd used it. She swore quite loudly, shocking a couple walking their dog nearby, and got her phone out, finding John's number and calling him.

"Don't tell me you're bailing on me," he said as he answered the phone, sounding like he had a mouthful of food.

"I'm not," Anna groaned, her shoulders slumping. "Seems I've run my battery down in my car. I'll need to get someone over here to give me a jump."

"I can do that," John said helpfully. At her hesitation, he spoke more forcefully. "I _can_."

"I don't want you to come all the way out here," Anna argued, leaning on the hood of her car.

She heard him shuffling something in the background, then heard the distinct tinkle of keys being picked up. "I can be there in fifteen minutes, faster than any roadside assistance company can even make the call to dispatch. I'll get you running and we can head over to the bazaar together."

"Fine," Anna smiled, throwing up her hand in mock resignation. "You win. Come and rescue me."

They said their goodbyes, and Anna settled into the driver's seat to wait for him. Just as he'd promised, he pulled up beside her fifteen minutes later, maneuvering his car into the empty space in front of hers, and popped his hood. He rummaged in the back of his car for a bit and came around to her car with a set of jumper cables. He held the cables in his hands, looking skyward and praying out loud. "Father, please guide my hand and keep me from electrocuting us both," he said piously as he connected the clamps to the terminals.

"What?" Anna nearly shrieked, looking at the battery terminals in horror. Red to red, black to black...

"I'm kidding!" John laughed at her reaction. "Priest humour."

Anna gave him a withering look as he continued to chuckle and started his car, then waved for her to start hers. It fired up after a few turns of the motor, and hummed steadily as it settled into a strong rhythm. They let the two cars run together for another minute before John got out of his car and disconnected them both. He walked over and leaned into her open window. He wore a red plaid shirt and jeans, and had a black canvas jacket hanging loosely around his shoulders. He also didn't seem to have shaved today, and the slight stubble was enticingly handsome on him. "Alright, we'll leave her running for a few minutes while the alternator recharges it. You'll be good after that."

She caught a delicious whiff of cologne and inhaled discreetly, as to not be noticed. Seeing him in his priest's uniform made her put up a wall that kept him off limits to her, but seeing him like this…

"You okay?" John asked in concern, ducking his head a little lower into her car.

She snapped out of her fantasies with a shake of her head. "Oh, fine," she said quickly. "Why don't I get out so you don't have to lean into the car?" She stepped out of the car and braced her back against the door, smiling as he settled in beside her in a similar pose. "Fine way to start the day, isn't it?"

John smiled warmly, the wrinkles around his eyes deepening. "I'm starting it with you, so it's fine indeed."

Anna rolled her eyes and jabbed her elbow into his side gently. "You're a charmer, John Bates," she said coquettishly, looking over at him through her lashes.

It was his turn to blush, the redness creeping up his neck and to his cheeks quickly. He ducked his head and tugged at his earlobe, staring across the street. "I try my best," he said humbly.

They waited another ten minutes for her battery to completely charge again before setting out for the bazaar, taking John's car. They made easy and light conversation between them, sharing laughter and tales of their youths. John had an older sister named Maureen who lived near Inverness with her husband, though he didn't see or hear from her much. Anna told him of the strained relationship between her and Emily, and he immediately recognized her husband's name when she mentioned him. He pursed his lips and whistled, shaking his head in disbelief. "He's about to be an even richer man, if the US government approves his company's merger," he said, filling Anna in on details that she hadn't known about Dennis's company herself. Apparently, John liked to follow tech industry blogs and had quite a head for the business, which surprised Anna.

"Yeah, well, Emily and Dennis could own Google and offer me a billion dollars, and I still wouldn't care," Anna said bitterly. "She didn't care much when Mum was dying, she didn't care when she was alive, and she's never let me live down when I…" She stopped and drew in a sharp breath, biting her knuckle to stop herself from crying.

John pulled up to a stoplight and placed his hand on hers. "What, love?" he said gently.

Anna felt a single tear spill from her left eye as she stared out the window. She sniffled and shook her head as she debated her response. Finally, she decided to tell him. "Full disclosure between us, I suppose," she muttered before turning to him. "My first relationship, with Marcus, when I was in university, I told you that it ended badly."

John nodded as the light turned green and he eased his foot onto the accelerator. "You did," he replied.

She pulled her hand away from his grip and wrung her fingers together. "Two months after we broke it off, I found out…" She palmed her hand against her forehead and closed her eyes. "God, I've never told anyone else about this, not even Gwen." She took another deep breath and went on. "I found out that I was pregnant."

John said nothing, but his eyes watched her as he drove, only glancing at the road occasionally. Luckily, traffic was light and he had no issues navigating the streets. He nodded for her to go on.

"I called Marcus about it, but he got angry and said it wasn't his," she continued. She snorted and rolled her eyes. "It was his. He was the only man I'd ever been with. Anyway, I went through all of the usual thought processes. Should I keep it, put it up for adoption, even if I should…get rid of it," she said with a grimace. She was very nervous at John's reaction to that part, being a religious man. To his credit, he only reached out and took her hand again, giving it a gentle squeeze and the strength to go on.

"I ended up deciding to keep it. My Mum wasn't thrilled, but she came around to the idea. Emily made a fuss about it though. Called me all sorts of nasty things and made me feel terrible. I was twenty-one weeks along when I woke up one morning and something just didn't seem right. I went to the doctor and…" She choked up quite a bit now, and John only held her hand tighter, staring straight ahead out at the road. "They don't know why it happened, it just did. It was too early to save her."

"She wasn't meant to be," John finally said sympathetically.

Anna sniffled and nodded. "I suppose you can put it like that. I was able to hold her for a little while before they took her. She was tiny and perfect, but she just wasn't meant to be," she echoed his words.

"What was her name?" John asked softly as he rubbed her hand with his fingers.

Anna shook her head. "I never...I never named her," she lied. She had given her a name long before she was born, but she had been unable to speak it since she'd held her that November day. She plunged on after taking a deep, bracing breath. "So anyway, I went through all of the motions of becoming a mother, and didn't get to go home with her. I ended up so depressed that I dropped out of law school and never went back. I found a job as a clerk at a law firm, then went onto work for O'Brien, Barrow and Swire a couple years later. And you know the rest. So that's that," she finished with a sad smile, not looking over at him.

She could hear his even, measured breathing beside her, then he exhaled slowly. He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it, his soft lips lingering quite a while as he gently breathed in and out. "Thank you for telling me," he finally murmured into her skin, giving her another small kiss before lowering their hands to the center console.

Anna smiled wanly and glanced over at him. His eyes were glassy and his expression unreadable. "You must think terribly of me," she whispered, leaning her head against the glass of the window.

"Of course not," John said sharply, squeezing her hand. "Like you've said before, we all have a past. Yours is nothing to be ashamed about. It wasn't a mistake either. If it were me, I would have supported you one-hundred percent, no matter what happened, or what your decision would be. I support you now."

She managed a broader smile and rubbed at her eyes. "You're a good man, John Bates," she said. "How no one has snatched you up before now…" She let the statement linger on the air, staring out the window as they pulled up to the area of town where the outdoor bazaar was held. She did wonder if he'd been married before, or at least been in a long term relationship. It seemed impossible that he had gone this far in life and not had either. He didn't say anything after her rhetorical statement, and she didn't press. They'd had enough earth shattering revelations for one day.

The bazaar was a monthly event, and two entire blocks were barricaded off so people could sell their wares. It was a hodgepodge of homemade goods, upcycled items, and general flea market curiosities. They walked up one of the streets slowly, not really taking in much, and not walking so close as to appear as if they were actually a couple. So far as the world was concerned, they were either two friendly acquaintances out for a stroll. They had decided to grab lunch first, then digest it as they walked through the bazaar.

Patmore's Cafe was just as she remembered it, loud and bustling, but with excellent food. They both ordered the chicken salad sandwich again, and the server they'd had before, Daisy, was just as harried and sweet as Anna remembered. She kept their water glasses full and the tea hot, and engaged them in idle polite chatter. She shared that her husband William was in the RAF and was training to be part of a helicopter flight crew. She was practically giddy as she talked about him and how proud she was, and was eager to see him in a few weeks when he had leave. She planned on moving to whatever base he ended up being assigned to once his training was complete. John shared a few little anecdotes about his own military days, to ease her nervousness about William's hazardous job. He even told her he'd include William in his prayers tonight and at church tomorrow, which made the young girl bounce up and down with joy.

The two of them shared a quiet, but companionable meal together, lingering far longer than their plates stayed on the table. It was so easy to lose themselves in conversation, sharing little stories from their childhoods, talking about movies they'd seen, whatever and wherever their thoughts led them. John had been spotted twice by someone from the church, but no one intruded on their time together other than to give their polite regards, and no one fixed her with an accusatory stare, which was a welcome change.

Late in the afternoon, they finally left the cafe and headed back up the street to the bazaar, which still had a couple hours left to go. Since it was warm today, the organizers had planned a little bit of entertainment after dark, with a few local musicians taking to the small stage later on. They stopped at every stall that interested them in the slightest, both of them finding little knick knacks for their homes, and Anna finding a lovely vintage crocheted scarf that would go perfectly with one of her favourite jackets.

Anna spotted a vendor selling hand-churned ice cream and her mouth watered. "There was a shop when I was a little girl that sold the best handmade ice cream," she said to John. "Nothing from the supermarket comes even close to how delicious it was." She examined the tubs inside a portable freezer case. "What was your favourite flavor as a child?" she asked as he moved on to the next stall.

"Oh, butterscotch, I think," John called back over his shoulder as she looked the turned wooden pens and bowls in front of him.

Anna grinned and paid the vendor four pounds for the two cones, and presented one to a very surprised John just as he turned around to look for her. "You're in luck, Mister Bates," she said as she cleaned the drips off her mint chocolate chip scoop.

He grinned from ear to ear and took a quick bite out of his ice cream, his expression turning rapturous at the flavor. "You know, they used to call these penny licks a hundred years ago," he said.

"Well, adjusted for inflation, they probably cost about the same," Anna replied with a giggle.

They spent the next hour walking around, though they had already seen everything three times over. It was the simple pleasure of being in each other's company that kept them going. The sun sank low behind the trees and buildings, and the bands began warming up for their performances. John glanced at his watch around six and grimaced. "I forgot all about Lacy," he said guiltily. "She's probably climbing the walls now to go out."

"Poor girl," Anna said in sympathy. "We can go and you can let her out before you take me home."

John smiled and stood with his hands on his hips, looking down at her. They were closer physically than they had been all day, and she really welcomed his looming proximity. She found that she rather liked the height difference between them, especially since her exes had both been closer to her height, smaller men with small men complexes.

"Think you're ready to meet my girl?" he teased, squinting in the low afternoon sun. "Think we're that serious?"

Anna grinned and smacked him on the upper arm. "Well, if she doesn't like me, then we'll just have to call the whole thing off," she said with a sly smile.

John smacked his chest in mock heartbreak. "To think our entire future is being decided by someone who drinks from the toilet and eats from the rubbish bin."

They laughed heartily together, with Anna smoothing her arm down his bicep affectionately. For once, he didn't flinch or draw away, and she was so happy for that. They made their way back to his car and made the relatively short drive to Downton, where the small pastor's cottage sat on the back edge of the church's grounds. The sky was completely dark when they got there.

John put the car into park and sat still for a moment, something weighing heavily on his mind. Anna reached over to brush his hand tentatively and he turned his hand over, palm up, so they could entwine their fingers. "Not that we'll be staying long here, but it just struck me that this is the first time I've brought a girl back to my place in almost thirty years." He sawed his jaw back and forth and laughed bitterly, staring out the windshield.

"I have a hard time believing you never once had a lady over in that long," Anna frowned in confusion.

John's brow knitted and he looked down, then out the window. "I was married once." His eyes darted back and forth quickly. "It didn't work out." He shrugged as if that was all he had to say about the matter, though Anna was dying for him to elaborate. The way that he removed the key from the ignition was enough to tell her to leave it be for now. Anna only nodded, squeezing his hand before reaching for the door handle and getting out of the car.

The cottage was tiny, smaller than her flat, and probably over a hundred years old. It was cute though, the outside being well-kept and landscaped, probably by the Molesley men. John led her up the path to the front door, looking over his shoulder with a smirk. "Brace yourself," he warned her as he opened the door.

She was almost bowled over by the large mass of black fur and energy that rushed right at her. Anna whooped and turned sideways to keep from getting knocked over as Lacy danced around her legs, panting and whining. John had warned her that she was a large dog, but she was completely unprepared for this. The dog's head came all the way up to her waist, for God's sake. She gingerly patted Lacy's back, earning an enthusiastic head butt to her leg.

"Lace!" John said in exasperation. "Go take care of business."

Lacy trotted off to the grass and Anna laughed nervously. "That's probably the largest dog I've ever seen," she mused.

John shrugged and thrust his hands into his pockets, watching Lacy finish. "Her brother is three stone bigger. She's gentle though. Very aware of my leg, unless there's food on the other side of it." He let Lacy back into the cottage and swept his arm out for Anna to enter. The inside wasn't nearly as kept up as the outside, which initially disappointed her. Further inspection showed that John was putting work into the house and all of the cosmetic issues were likely from the previous vicar. It was a very tight space, barely room enough for he and Lacy to walk side by side between furniture. He took her jacket from her and hung it on a peg behind the door. "I need to feed Lacy her dinner," he said as he walked down the hallway, presumably toward the kitchen. "Have a seat. Can I get you something? Tea?"

"Yes, thank you," Anna called back to him as she settled down on the sofa, which looked newer than anything else in the room, other than the decent sized flat panel television that stuck out like a sore thumb. There was nothing remotely personal about the room, no photos or artwork other than the faded old reproductions that likely came with the place, and no trinkets. She frowned in disappointment, having hoped to get a little more insight into John by the things he kept around him.

He came back into the small living room and looked around. "I didn't keep many mementos while I was in the Army and sold a lot of it off when I started the seminary. I know it's not much," he sighed. "Not exactly the sort of place to bring someone to if you want to impress them."

Anna absolutely agreed with him and laughed weakly. "At least you're making an effort to paint, or at least those half dozen paint swatches say you are. The third one, by the way."

He grinned and reached into a small closet off the living room, pulling out a bucket of paint. "Well ahead of you," he chuckled. "That's the one I picked out." He looked at her appraisingly, folding his arms across his chest. "You really look lovely today," he said with a tiny smile.

She tucked her hair behind her ear and pursed her lips together. She'd made no special effort to dress up or even put on more than the most minimal amount of makeup. He even matched her himself, with his day's worth of stubble and very casual weekend dress. "Thank you," she squeaked out.

John went to retrieve the tea, bringing it back in on a wooden tray and sitting down on the sofa beside her, a good deal of distance still between them. They drank it quickly and quietly, the awkwardness of their presence growing by the minute. She would love to stay here all night with him, but the fact that they were in the pastor's cottage began to weigh heavily on her.

"I keep meaning to ask," John piped up with after he drained his second cup. "Did you ever find your keys?"

Anna nodded and rolled her eyes. "Last night actually, after I spent two days tearing the place apart. They were behind the little entry table I usually toss them on. Funny thing is, I must have looked there three times on New Year's Day, but they were just where I couldn't see them. All that worrying for nothing."

He shrugged and set his teacup down on the tray, then leaned back and stretched his right leg out, rocking his knee back and forth.

"Is it bothering you today?" she asked as she set her own cup beside his.

"A bit more than normal," he smiled. "It's more uncomfortable in warmer weather because it doesn't really breathe well."

"Do you get those, what do they call them? Phantom pains?"

He laughed and pointed at the foot of the prosthetic, hidden inside his ordinary looking shoe. "Thought I'd stubbed my toe the other night," he snorted. "I reached for it before realizing there was nothing there. It hurt like sin though. I said some rather un-Christian things."

Lacy picked that moment to climb onto the couch between them, pushing her feet against John and laying her head in Anna's lap. She looked up at Anna with soulful brown eyes and sighed.

"That's it," John said in amusement. "She approves. All of the other ladies take their names out of the running." He reached across the back of the sofa and put his hand on her shoulder. Lacy kept them a respectable distance from each other, but it was nice to sit with him nonetheless.

Anna reached up and covered her hand in his. "Are you any closer to sorting things out?" she asked pointedly.

John's fingers traced her collarbone through her cotton shirt. "Quite a bit, actually," he replied quietly, searching her eyes.

"Well," Anna said haltingly. "That's good." Her eyes darted between John's eyes and his lips as he did the same. If it weren't for the very large dog between them, she would lean right over and kiss him.

John seemed to have the same idea as he glanced down at Lacy and sighed, patting her haunches gently. "Not that I want the day to end, but I have an early morning tomorrow, and I still have to write my notes for the sermon."

She smiled regretfully at him, saddened that their lovely day was coming to a close as well. He still had to drive her home and get back, which would likely take another hour. Anna reached over and squeezed the hand that was on Lacy's fur. "That's probably a good thing," she admitted. "I was about to crawl over this beast and kiss you."

John laughed heartily, ducking and shaking his head. "That wouldn't go toward helping with the whole idea of taking things slow," he said.

Anna pursed her lips. "No, Reverend, it most certainly would not," she agreed.

They gathered their jackets and let Lacy out into the garden one last time before heading for John's car. They didn't talk much in the car, instead listening to the radio the whole way. Anna noticed him mouthing the words to a few songs and ended up joining in, creating their own off-key chorus that left them both giggling by the end of the drive.

John had to circle the neighbourhood several times, getting more and more frustrated each time they passed her building. "We need to talk about this parking situation of yours," he muttered the third time around.

"You _can_ just drop me off at the curb," Anna chided him. "I'll give you a chivalry pass on this one."

John huffed indignantly, eyes still searching for an open spot. "And I'll say the same thing I said last time, I'll see you safely to your door," he replied. He gave her a sideways grin. "Besides, I wouldn't mind reliving the last time we were there."

Anna's entire body began burning, not just her cheeks, and she pressed her fingers to her lips to stifle a nervous squeak. She was expecting at least a chaste goodnight kiss, but maybe he had something a little bolder in mind. She wouldn't argue in the slightest.

He finally found a space on the same street where they parked the other night and he dashed out to open the car door for her. He offered his arm as they walked around the corner to the next street. John was very quiet as they walked and kept looking over his shoulder without turning his head too far.

"Relax, soldier," Anna whispered, rubbing his arm vigorously.

But John didn't relax. He walked taller and a bit faster, his rolling gait making her hustle to keep up on her shorter legs as he wrapped his arm around her back and pressed her onward. Within sight of her building, John leaned his head down and whispered in her ear. "I need you to listen to me very carefully," he said in a flat tone. "Don't do anything to change your body language. There is a man who has been following us closely for the past two blocks."

"What?" Anna said, her head automatically turning to look behind her. She heard a few quick steps on the concrete sidewalk not far away in the darkness.

John warned her with a quiet hiss. "He's back there. Something doesn't sit right with me about him. I'm going to walk a step or two behind you. Get your phone out and be ready to dial 999. If I tell you, run like hell and get inside your building. Promise me that."

"We should both just run," she argued, her heart racing.

"I _can't_ run," he reminded her, glancing backward. "Just stay behind me, no matter what. Okay?"

Anna nodded and John dropped back slightly. She heard the scuff of his shoes as he spun about quickly. "Evening friend!" he called out in a jovial voice. "Lovely night, isn't it?"

The man who had been following them so closely stopped in his tracks, just beyond the light from the streetlamp between them. Anna noticed that John had put them just out of the light themselves. The man said nothing, just shifted on his feet as his hands fidgeted in his jacket pockets, barely more than a smudge of shadow in the dark.

"I'd take it very kindly if you'd stop following us so closely, friend," John said firmly. His entire posture had changed. His knees were bent slightly as his body turned to the side, his left leg forward. He managed to make himself somehow larger in the way that his shoulders squared off.

"John, we should go," Anna whispered, reaching out to touch his shoulder.

"You have your phone out?" he said quietly, his lips barely moving.

"Yes."

"Remember what I told you."

Anna's hand clenched her phone tightly, shaking in her jacket pocket. There was no one else on the street but them, no one to help, no one to call out to. The man circled around the spot of light on the sidewalk and moved closer to them.

"Alright, that's close enough," John said firmly, his body aligning with the direction of the other man.

The man's face came into view, his cold eyes looking past John and meeting hers. He smiled in a way that made her shiver. "Did you have a nice time today, Anna?" he asked with an oily drip.

"What?" Anna began shaking as John held one hand behind him to palm her hip.

"I know you," John said in recognition. "You were at the dinner on Christmas."

Something clicked in Anna's head as she watched him slowly circle toward them, his voice suddenly familiar. "And you were outside my building New Year's Eve," she realized. "Before I left for the party and after we got back."

"Look, mate," John said in a flat voice, deadly calm. "If you're in need of food, or shelter, or some other sort of assistance, I can help you. My church has resources for people in need."

"I don't want those things," the man said coldly, watching Anna still.

"If it's drugs or money you're after, I can assure you we have neither."

"I only want to know why my angel here is out with you, mate." He moved a bit closer, his hands still shifting in his pockets. "She's far too pretty for the likes of you." His face tightened grimly. "I can show her a good time."

"Anna," John snapped, "go!"

It happened in a flash, almost too fast for her to see realize what was happening. She turned and dashed toward the corner of the nearest building, looking back over her shoulder. The man lunged at John, his hand flying from his pocket and revealing a long knife, which he thrust outward. John spun on his left leg, the knife just missing him, and caught the man in the gut with his fist. Anna screamed his name as they moved together in a blur, the knife flashing in the light from the streetlamp. He got a few off-balance punches in on John, and slashed at him with the knife, the blade missing John by only inches. John darted forward and caught the hand holding the knife between his own hands and twisted sharply. The man screamed in pain as John flipped him onto his back, the knife skittering off into the darkness. He knelt over the man and pummeled him with his fists, the sound of bone impacting bone sickening in the darkness. She could see the wet crimson of blood on his fist every time he raised drew back to land another punch to the man's face.

"John! Stop!" Anna screamed, running to pull him away before he lost control and killed the man. She caught his forearm and tugged hard, enough to pull John off balance and onto his side. The anger and sheer rage in his eyes was frightening as he turned on her, and Anna took a quick step backward in fear.

The rage suddenly gave way to remorse as he stood up quickly as he could manage. Breathing heavily, his eyes still wild and his hair flying everywhere, he grabbed Anna's arm and roughly pulled her away from the man, who lay on the sidewalk groaning. "Let's go," he rasped to her, hurrying her toward her building, finding and tossing the knife into the nearest storm drain, where no one could easily retrieve it.

They almost ran the rest of the way to her building, John limping horribly beside her. Her hands shook so hard trying to put her key in the lock that he had to reach out and steady them for her. Once inside the relative safety of the lobby, Anna launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around his middle and squeezing tightly.

"You stupid idiot!" she cried, pounding him on the back with one tiny, balled fist. "You could have gotten yourself killed!"

Panting heavily, John clung to her and rocked back and forth. "He never came close enough to even scratch me," he hoarsed, his breath burning the skin of her temple as his lips lightly grazed it. He leaned over and looked out the windowed door. "He's gone now. He ran off. Well, he limped off." She could feel his satisfied smile against her skin.

"What, he's up and left?"

"Would you have hung around after getting your arse handed to you like that?" John chuckled dryly. "Come on, let's get upstairs to your flat and call the police."

As they made their way upstairs, Anna could only stare up at her gentle, kind-hearted vicar with the darkly flashing eyes, wondering what sort of man she'd really fallen in love with.


	17. Chapter 17

**I.**

John was a very large man in her very small flat, and he looked like a wounded tiger as he limped about her living room on his cell phone.

Anna had let him into her apartment and shut the door behind them, securing both locks and the chain. John touched her shoulder and turned her gently, his eyes searching up and down her body. "You're okay, right?" he whispered. "Anna, tell me you're alright."

She could only nod as she blinked back tears and wordlessly led him into the living room. She made him sit down on the sofa, where he promptly leaned forward on his elbows and buried his face in his hands. He rocked forward and backward slightly, eyes and jaw clenched tightly as he spat out a prayer through gritted teeth. She managed to make out something about wrath in his hoarse whisper before she went into the kitchen to get a wet cloth.

His knuckles were already turning purple, and he'd lost a bit of skin when he had practically bashed the other man's face in. He accepted the wet washcloth from her with a murmured thanks, and she went back into the kitchen to get him some ice in a baggie. When she came back out, he had leaned fully against the back of the sofa, head tilting upward and eyes closed.

Anna sat down gingerly beside him, taking the cloth from his hand and wrapping it around the bag of ice. She examined his hand briefly, satisfied that he wasn't bleeding too badly, and carefully set it back on his thigh, covering it with the ice.

He winced at the cold contact and opened his eyes to look at her sidelong. "Well, you said you weren't ready for the night to end," he joked tiredly, "and here we are."

She blinked back tears, shaking her head at him. "You were so foolish to go after him like that," she berated him. "You should have just walked away like I told you. You were going to _kill_ him if I hadn't stopped you!"

To his credit, he did look fully chastised and his face reddened slightly. He looked at her through his dark lashes. "I'm sorry," he apologized, his head hanging low. "I know you were frightened, but I also knew that he was going to make some sort of move, whether I stopped to confront him or not."

"How could you possibly know that?" Anna rasped, her throat tightening.

"Remember, I wasn't always a priest," he reminded her. "You learn a lot in special forces. How to read people and know when to run and when to stand and fight. That fellow was aiming for a fight at the very least."

"Doesn't mean you weren't foolish anyway," Anna said firmly, drawing her legs under her on the couch. They sat with an entire cushion between them, and it might as well have been the entire English Channel. "What if you'd gotten hurt?"

John sighed and stretched his right leg out gingerly, twisting the knee a bit as the prosthetic stayed unnaturally stiff under his jeans. "I did," he admitted. "I wrenched my knee pretty badly."

Anna's hands swiftly moved to touch his leg, the feel of the brace under the denim strange, but not off-putting. "I'll go get you some more ice for it," she said, moving to get up.

He grabbed her hand and pulled her back down to the sofa, very close to his side this time. "I'm fine," he insisted. "I just need a little time to rest."

She peeled back the ice pack and took another look at his hand. She sucked her breath in through her teeth. "I'll get you some plasters and ointment for your hand. You need to wash it first. I don't think most of that blood is yours," she said in both horror and relief.

He looked down at the drying brown smears and made a fist. He swallowed loudly and nodded, then looked toward her kitchen. Anna led him to the sink and turned on the tap, letting the cold water wash over him. He scrubbed up with some of the antibiotic soap on the counter while she fetched her first aid kit. Now that his hand was clean, he only had a couple scrapes, for which she was grateful. She applied the ointment and plasters as he leaned against her counter, balancing on his left foot.

"Alright," she said flatly, "go on and sit down and I'll get you some ice for your knee." She swatted at his side to push him along.

John gave her a grateful smile that instantly took twenty years off his age, looking like a little boy who had just had his booboos kissed by his mommy. She had to shoo him off again before he left the kitchen. Now that she was alone, she gripped the edge of the counter tightly, her knuckles turning white. She pursed her lips together to keep herself from dissolving into complete hysterics as she felt a panic attack coming on.

That man had a god damned knife and John went after him like he was holding a plastic spoon. He danced like a boxer in the ring with no effort, and when he had the man on the ground, he began beating him like one of those mixed martial arts fighters. The wild look on his face had frightened her more than the man who attacked them. She had seen a completely different man come out of her gentle love, and the memory of his dark eyes when he turned to her had her shaking where she stood. She knew that he'd had a violent past. It was impossible not to if he'd been in the special forces. He probably had training in all sorts of hand to hand combat. But this wasn't the finesse of a professional soldier, it was the fury of a man who had lost control. It was the moment of complete rage that he exhibited that worried her the most.

It took her a minute of controlled, steady breathing before she could finally open her eyes and set about the task of getting him another bag of ice. She shook her head bitterly as she tried to reconcile what he'd done with who she loved.

She could hear him talking to the police, and when she returned, he was up and pacing the room, his limp so much more pronounced than ever. He stopped at one end of the room and stood on his left foot take the weight off of the other.

"So you won't send anyone out tonight?" he said indignantly into the phone, his eyes wide. "The fellow could be out there right now, going after some other person…" He paused and frowned, shaking his head in disbelief. "Right then. If someone else gets hurt tonight, it will be on you lot. I'll pray that he only goes back to wherever he lives to lick his wounds. We'll be down there tomorrow afternoon to make a statement." He hit the button to end the call and stood with his hands on his hips. "Our tax dollars at work," he spat.

"They won't come out tonight?" Anna asked in confusion. "Why not?"

"They said if he left the scene and we weren't hurt, and there was no property loss or damage, there's no reason to come out. We have to file a report at the station tomorrow. They won't even send a car to drive past the building." He tossed his phone onto the sofa and scrubbed one hand through his brown hair in frustration.

"Come and sit down," Anna pleaded hesitantly, reaching out her hand. The anger seemed to drain from his body and he gave her a tired smile. John hobbled back to the sofa, wincing with every step. He took her hand and and flopped down on the sofa with no shred of grace about him, his leg finally giving out. Anna shuffled up alongside his solid form and threw her arm across his chest, hugging him and burying her face in his shoulder. She closed her eyes and breathed in his scent, the mix of cologne, deodorant, and a trace of sweat burning its way into her memory.

He shifted until they had their arms fully wrapped around one another, with her not far from laying in his lap. It was a very comfortable position to be in, and she could feel the tension drain from both of them. John stroked her hair slowly and kissed her just above her hairline.

"I still can't believe you went after him like that," she groaned into his shoulder.

"I couldn't let anything happen to you," he explained in a whisper. "You are far too precious to me to have some ruffian harm one hair on your head. I had to teach him a lesson."

"Teach him a lesson?" Anna said sharply. "That doesn't sound very Christian of you." At the slight twitch of his arms, she immediately regretted it.

She heard John swallow thickly. "You're right," he agreed softly. "It's not. And I'll have to do quite a bit of soul searching with God about it. What I did was wrong, but I will defend those I love with every ounce of my strength." His arms tightened around her as his voice broke.

Anna began to tremble, the last bit of adrenaline finally leaving her body. "He knew my name, John," she cried softly. "He knew my name and he's been outside my building three times now." Tears spilled down her cheeks, staining his shirt.

"We'll tell the police that tomorrow," he said. "And we'll tell them where to fish that knife out from. Perhaps they can pull prints off of it, and maybe there's CCTV of him in the neighbourhood. They'll put out alerts to the local hospitals if he seeks treatment. They'll find him."

"And what if they don't?" Anna asked in horror, turning her face upward to meet his concerned gaze. "What if he's out there again tomorrow? Or next week or months from now? It's like he's stalking me."

John's expression echoed her own fear, and he stroked her cheeks gently, his big hands nearly swallowing her whole. "Maybe you should stay with Gwen a while," he suggested.

She nodded and swallowed. "I probably could. Or there's my Mum's house as well, though I haven't been back there in months."

"I would offer the house where I live, but the church wouldn't exactly go along with that."

Anna giggled at the thought. "The old busybodies would keel over from the shock." She rested her chin on his chest and looked up at him. "Speaking of, don't you have to get back and write a sermon for tomorrow?"

He shook his head as his expression softened. "I'm exactly where I need to be right now," he whispered, stroking her cheek with his thumb. He leaned in and gave her a quick peck on the lips, both of them smiling gently as they pulled away. They settled in closer together, nestling in each other's embrace as they eased off into a dreamless sleep.

**II.**

John awakened with a start, his eyes blinking from the light of lamps in an unfamiliar room. There was a weight on his chest that he had an immediate instinct to shake off until he realized that it was Anna, who was curled up against him and snoring softly. His heart melted at the sight and feel of her against him.

A quick glance at his watch revealed that it was after midnight. He bit back a swear and gently jostled her awake. She frowned in confusion as she looked at his chest, then up to his eyes, smiling when she realized he was still there. "We fell asleep," she said in wonder. "What time is it?"

"We did indeed. And it's after midnight." He eased her off of him and went to stand up. He groaned in pain when he put weight on his right leg, immediately falling back down to the sofa. "God have mercy," he prayed through gritted teeth as he gripped his lower thigh. It hadn't hurt this bad since he'd gotten the prosthetic. He felt a rush of embarrassment at her worried expression, never having shown anyone his physical weakness to this degree before, at least not since rehab.

"You need to stay off of that leg," Anna said firmly.

"Well, I can't stay here," John argued, trying to stand up again, with the same pain shooting up his thigh. He sat back down heavily and shook his head. "It wouldn't be right or proper."

"I don't give a rat's rear end about right or proper. You think you're doing something noble right now by trying to leave," Anna snapped, with such resolve in her voice. "But you're hurting, and you need to rest. I'm not going to have you hobbling out to your car when that man may still be out there." She tsked bitterly and held her hand up as he opened his mouth to object again. "You're staying here tonight, and that's final. We're responsible adults, right?"

"Mostly," he agreed with a wry grin.

Anna stood up and offered her hand. "Then come on and have a lie down. We'll get you back to the church in time for services in the morning."

He hesitated, looking at her hand suspiciously. "I'll be alright out here on the sofa."

"No, you won't," she argued. "It's not long enough for _me_ to stretch out comfortably on, much less you. You can sleep in there." She nodded at the closed door he'd glanced at several times tonight, beyond which he assumed was her bedroom.

"I won't chase you from your bed, Anna," he said in defeat.

"You're not."

John looked up at her sharply, but there was no trace of lust or romance in her expression. She meant business. "You mean we're to share the bed?" he spat in disbelief.

She put her hands on her hips and drew herself up to her full, if tiny height. "I can keep my hands to myself and you can too."

"Anna…" He shook his head stubbornly.

She inhaled sharply, her eyes squeezing shut. When she opened them again, they were glassy and full of fear. "Fine! I'll be selfish and tell you that I don't want to be alone tonight," she warbled, "because all I can see when I close my eyes is the way that man looked at me and hear his voice as said my name." She took a deep, shuddering breath before rushing on in a whisper, not looking at him. "And all I want in my life right now is for _you_ to look at me and for _you_ to say my name. I need to know that you're here and we're both safe." Tears openly ran down her cheeks as she pleaded with him to stay.

John sighed slowly and closed his eyes. He nodded and opened his eyes to see her giving him a tiny, hopeful little smile. He braced his palms on the sofa cushions and pushed himself upward carefully, placing only a tiny bit of weight on his aching knee, which he knew was swollen under the prosthetic sleeve. Anna immediately came around to his right side and wrapped her arm around his waist, letting him brace himself against her. Together, they made it to her bedroom door and that physical and metaphorical threshold that he both feared and yearned for. She opened the door and turned on the lightswitch.

The most pathetic cat he'd ever seen in his life wailed miserably at them from the middle of the bed, which was the centerpiece of a very neat and tidy room. There wasn't a trace of clutter, dirty laundry, or anything that would suggest that she was a messy person. The bed was completely made up, the green comforter and matching pillows perfectly tucked and stacked, save for the indent where the grey cat with glaring yellow eyes made his den. The window was huge, with sheer curtains pulled aside. He imagined it was quite lovely in the morning when the sun came up.

"Do you always keep everything so spotless or were you hoping to end up with me here tonight?" he quipped, looking around the room.

"You give yourself too much credit," she replied wryly. "It just happens that Saturday morning is when I do everything around the house. Alright you," she said as she helped him to the side of the bed and eased him down by pushing on his shoulders. She drew the diaphanous curtain beside the bed, shutting out the night and the street below. "Get comfortable. I'll be back in a moment. That's Moe the Infernal, by the way. Watch your fingers." She didn't even glance over her shoulder as she disappeared into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her.

John was left sitting on the edge of the bed with a very confused feline sniffing him in curiosity. "Hello there. You smell Lacy, don't you?" he said, reaching his hand out to scratch Moe's back. The cat hissed and swatted at him, giving him a low yowl as he jumped off the bed and retreated into the living room.

John shook his head ruefully and unbuttoned his shirt, peeling it off and leaving the t-shirt underneath. He removed both of his shoes and looked down at the artificial foot, wondering how to proceed.

"It's a good thing you don't need his approval like I needed Lacy's," Anna said as she emerged from the bathroom. "If my old bosses were reborn in cat form, they would be him."

She'd scrubbed what little makeup she had been wearing off her face and changed into a worn t-shirt and flannel pajama bottoms. He had to look away to keep from smiling like a fool at how adorably domestic she was. She opened a cedar chest at the foot of the bed and fished out a fleece blanket, handing it to him. "To protect your virtue, Reverend. I'll sleep under the covers and you'll sleep on top." She went around to the other side of the bed and pulled back the covers very efficiently, slipping in and flapping them back over herself.

John could only watch her, slack-jawed and dazed as he clutched the blanket against him. He looked down at his legs again and decided to swing them both onto the bed, wincing as the pain in his knee shot up his thigh.

Anna looked at him sympathetically, glancing down at his legs. "You can take it off, you know," she said quietly, touching his shoulder lightly. "It doesn't disgust or offend me, and I know it's hurting you. You don't have to be strong and suffer because you're ashamed of it."

His eyes brimmed with tears and he reached up to take her hand. "I'm not ashamed of it. But it's not pretty," he warned her.

"I don't expect it to be, and I'm not going to be examining it up close," she said with a snort. "Not anytime soon, anyways. You need to rest and let your leg relax some. So go ahead and take it off. I'll look away if you want." She turned away to stare at the window beside the bed.

He considered this and shook his head. "No," he replied firmly. He squeezed her hand on his shoulder. "You say you love all of me, so you should know what all of me entails, even the parts that are scarred and long gone." He waited until she looked back toward him before pulling up his pants leg and releasing the cup. The relief was immediate as he removed the prosthetic, blood flowing freely under his skin. Next came the knit liner and the silicone sleeve. There wasn't much she could have seen as the fabric of his jeans flopped back down to cover the exposed skin. He shifted so that he was lying on his back and draped the blanket over himself.

Anna reached over to turn out the light on the table and they were plunged into darkness, the only light filtering through the blinds from outside and a dim light in the bathroom. She lay on her back as well, a mile between them. John stared at the ceiling, breathing shallowly.

Suddenly, she began to giggle, peals of laughter that shook the bed. John looked over at her sourly, barely able to make out her face in the darkness. "What?" he asked.

"I'm sorry," she said between laughs. "This is just the most absurd thing ever. I feel like I'm in school, having a sleepover."

He joined in her amusement, chuckling along with her. "I remember school dances where the nuns put their hands between us, saying _'leave room for Jesus.' _" They laughed a great deal at the notion before both of them sighed somewhat expectantly. He shifted a bit more in the bed to get comfortable.

Anna's mirth turned serious and she turned slightly toward him. "John?" she said in a whisper.

"Yes?"

"Can you hold me?"

His body went absolutely still and he nodded slowly. He lifted his arm so she could scoot up beside him. Anna rolled toward him and shifted so that she lay draped across his chest, their legs still separated by blankets. Her entire body was trembling and he shushed her gently until she finally stilled. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and covered her hand with his. John breathed in the scent of her hair and exhaled slowly, closing his eyes. He mouthed his nightly prayers into the darkness and nestled a little closer to her.

Her trembling finally stilled as her body relaxed against him. "I love you," Anna whispered in the dark after several minutes, her voice thick with the onset of sleep. "Even if you are a big, foolish hero."

John breathed out a short laugh. "I love you, too," he whispered. His heart ached with emotion and he smiled into her hair. He pulled her closer as sleep began to take him.

This is what love should have always felt like.

**II.**

The harsh blaring noise of her cell phone alarm awakened her with a start. Anna looked at the time, frowning at the darkness outside her window. Why on earth had she set it for such an ungodly hour?

Then she remembered setting it so that she could take John home before sunrise.

She realized with a jolt to her chest that he was no longer in the bed with her. She felt a moment of panic that he'd up and left her alone without so much as a goodbye, that he'd run off because he regretted last night, as innocent as it was. Her eyes burned with tears and she threw the covers off, snatching her robe off the chair beside the bed and throwing it over her shoulders. She ran out into the living room and blinked in the harsh light from the lamp beside her sofa.

John was sitting on it, bent over and tying his shoes, everything back in its place. He looked up and smiled at her warmly and she felt a wave of relief. "Good morning," he said quietly.

"God, John, I thought you'd run out on me," she whined, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

His looked crestfallen. "I was just about to come back in there to tell you goodbye," he explained. "I didn't want to wake you, so I was going to give you a Disney princess kiss and be on my way. I would have left a note so as not to appear a total cad."

Anna snorted and padded over to the sofa, sitting down beside him. She looked over at him hesitantly. "How are you feeling?"

John flexed his leg a few times. "Not great, but it's quite a bit better than last night. I just need to keep my weight off of it for a few days. I can walk a little though."

"How are you going to manage standing up at church this morning?"

He frowned and sat up a bit taller. "I have a stool in my office if I need it," he said after thinking about it. "God won't judge me, I don't think."

"You didn't get to write your sermon last night," Anna said sadly. She really felt terrible about it.

John smiled and gave her a sidelong glance. "I did," he said. "I have the heart of it in my head. I do better when I speak off the cuff anyway." He carefully stood up and put his weight on his leg, wincing a little, but at least he wasn't crying out in pain.

Anna stood up and walked into his space, her hands coming up to rest on his chest. His long arms enveloped her and he kissed the top of her head. They stood together for quite a while, swaying slightly to an unsung song. She could hear his heart beating as she rested her head on the soft cotton of his shirt, steady, strong, and for her.

"You know," John said softly after a while. "Last night was the first night in a very long time that I didn't have a nightmare, or awaken in a cold sweat. I think I have you to thank for that."

She smiled into his shirt and slid her arms around his comforting bulk, wrapping upward to run her palms along his broad shoulders. She tilted her head upward to rest her chin on his chest, meeting his eyes. He cradled both sides of her head and leaned in, their lips meeting in a soft and lingering kiss that quickly deepened. Anna whimpered as one of his hands threaded in the back of her hair and her head began to spin.

The man could kiss. Good lord in heaven, the man could kiss.

They finally pulled apart and John pressed two kisses on her forehead and temple. They both sighed deeply, hands gently caressing and calming each other.

"Wow," Anna breathed.

John laughed, a low rumble that made her smile. "You're not making this easy for me," he complained with a sly grin. "All I can think about is how much I want to be with you."

"You're not making this easy for me either, you know," Anna countered, arching her brows and patting his chest. "You're the one who needs time and space, remember?"

"Neither of which we're particularly good at maintaining."

Anna snorted and tilted her head to one side. "No, sir, we are not." She took a reluctant step away from him and folded her arms across her breasts. "Do you want me to drive you to your car? Mine is right out front."

He shook his head and reached down to the couch, grabbing his black jacket. "I'll be alright walking, I think," he replied. He searched her face, the unspoken worry swirling between the two of them. "There's no way he's still out there, you know. Not after what I did to him."

Anna's heart sank and she bit her bottom lip. "I'll still worry about you," she croaked.

John reached out and took her hand between his two large ones. "I'll call you when I get back to the car." At her accepting nod, he smiled hopefully. "When can I see you again?"

She blinked and glanced at the clock on the mantle. "In about three hours? I'll be at services this morning." The church still wasn't her cup of tea, but she would go for him, just as she knew that he would likewise support her.

John beamed and nodded his head. "Then I'll see you at church," he said. He leaned in and gave her a peck on the cheek. "Until then," he murmured. He turned to walk toward the door, their fingers twining together until the very last second. Then that lovely connection was gone, and she could only watch with a heavy heart as he pulled her front door shut behind him.

Anna stood in the middle of her living room, hand covering her mouth as her lips split into a broad smile, the feeling of loss giving way to a feeling of great fulfillment. She giggled to herself and headed back into her bedroom, flopping down on the bed. She waited patiently for his call that came a few minutes later. There was no sign of the man on the street, he said, and he was safely to his car and on the road. After she hung up, she turned her face into the pillow that he'd been using and closed her eyes, inhaling his unmistakable scent. A lovesick schoolgirl, that's what she was.

Three hours later, almost to the minute, she was perfectly coiffed and sitting in a church pew four rows from the front. She didn't feel right sitting where the Crawleys normally sat, even though that pew stayed relatively empty. She also didn't want to draw more attention to herself than necessary by sitting up front where every eye could be upon her. She chatted politely with the lovely Elsie, who immediately sought her out when she arrived. Even Charles, as pompous as she had thought him to be at first, warmly welcomed her to the church. She was beginning to feel a sense of peace and belonging that she hadn't really felt in years.

Services started right on time, and John emerged from the side chapel, still limping painfully, but managing a smile. He stood for the blessing, balancing carefully on his left leg. After all of the formalities were through, he made eye contact with her and gave her a quick wink that she hoped no one would notice. As he'd said, he had a stool waiting for him behind the pulpit, and he gingerly climbed up onto it for his sermon.

"I hope you'll all forgive me my horrible transgression this morning," he said to a few amused chuckles as he gestured down at the stool. "You see, I was out walking with a friend last evening, and we ran into a spot of trouble with someone who obviously needs God's love in his life. I ended up wrenching my knee and scraping up my hand a bit." There were a few concerned murmurs, but he held his hands up. "I'll be fine, I assure you. But it brought up something that I've been remiss to mention to you all."

He glanced at Anna before continuing and she gave him a tiny little smile of reassurance. He hopped down from the stool and gestured at his leg. "Some of you know that I was in the Army before I accepted God into my heart and chose the path of the vicar. What you don't know is that the reason why I realized that I needed God in the first place was because I lost part of my leg in Iraq."

The murmurs became full fledged whispers and gasps. John held up his hands again to silence them. "I was in a horrible place, even before I lost my leg," he continued. "But when I accepted God's love into my heart, not only was I able to heal my body, but I was able to heal my soul, which had been damaged and decaying for years. It took losing part of myself to find the whole of myself. I didn't think I could love or be loved again." He smiled, his eyes glancing downward for a moment before flickering back to her almost imperceptibly. She knew he was speaking equally about Christ's love as he was of hers. "I know now that I was wrong. I tell you this not to bring attention to myself, but to ask each of you to look into your own hearts. Think about what it was that brought you to God. To Downton. For some of you, it's all that you have ever known. Your parents raised you as Christians. But for others, there was something that you were missing. You were searching for a purpose. The Lord filled your heart, as he did mine. I've known great pain and suffering, as I'm sure many of you have before, and many of you will still face in the future. But know that you are loved, as am I."

He went on to talk about Christ's sacrifice and suffering, making sure to emphasize that he was _not_ comparing himself with Christ, but that he knew he could endure far worse because his Savior had. He truly spoke from the heart, without even glancing at the podium. The utter joy in his expression as he spoke of love and acceptance and forgiveness struck a tiny little spark inside Anna. And by the end of his sermon, she had begun to understand John's love for God, even as it began to spread to her as well like a fire on a dry mountainside.

After services concluded, John and Charles lined up to perform the Eucharist. Anna decided she was comfortable enough with the inner peace she felt to accept the offering. She slipped into line with the rest of the worshippers and waited her turn. When she was finally faced with John at the altar, she thought he was going to burst from happiness. He gingerly placed the bit of bread on her tongue and she swallowed quickly, as she had been taught at church as a child. Charles gave her a small paper cup of wine, and she downed that just as quickly. One last glance to John revealed his joy in her growing acceptance of his faith.

After the Eucharist had been performed, some of the parishioners milled about to thank John for his service and sacrifice in the Army and for his inspiring sermon. Anna got the impression that some people were turned off by the revelation of his disability as they whispered amongst themselves. As far as she was concerned, they could bugger right off.

She waited until most of the church had cleared before making her way to the front, where he was just finishing praying with a young couple and their two children. He looked over at her and smiled briefly as he said his goodbyes to the family. When he turned back to Anna moments later, the color suddenly drained from his face.

"John?" she said sharply, risking calling him by his name, but worried that he was about to pass out.

He looked just beyond her, his eyes widening and then narrowing in anger, that rage from the previous night returning tenfold. He immediately turned and limped toward the door of his private office, disappearing inside. He shut the door so quickly and loudly that more than a few people turned and made comments about it.

Elsie appeared beside Anna, a frown marring her brow. "What's got into Reverend Bates?" she asked.

Anna wanted to run after him to see what was wrong, but her feet were anchored by propriety. "I have no idea," she said mournfully. She took a hesitant step forward.

She felt someone brush past her shoulder and she turned to apologize for being in their way. A woman in a long coat walked up to the office door and touched the handle, turning it and opening the door.

"Miss!" Elsie called out, rushing toward the woman. "That's Reverend Bates's private office. I'm afraid you can't go in there."

The woman turned, her gaze slipping past Elsie and settling on Anna, smiling in such a way that it didn't reach her sharp blue eyes. Anna felt as if someone had just walked over her grave. "I'm sure that I can, dear," she said in a husky voice. "I'm the vicar's wife, after all." She pushed her way into the office and shut the door behind her.


	18. Chapter 18

**I.**

It felt good to finally reveal himself, scars and all, to the members of his church. Having his beautiful Anna there with him gave him the strength and resolve he needed. His leg hurt like the devil, but he managed to find the resolve to carry on, finishing his sermon on finding inner strength through the love of God. He felt a surge of emotion as he finished, fighting back tears of relief from sharing such a personal struggle. He only hoped that his words would help give others their own strength to continue on.

He resisted the urge to speak directly to Anna during his sermon. In fact, it was everything he could do to not stare into her eyes from afar the entire time he spoke. He'd found such peace with her last night, especially after what happened with the attack. He knew he'd almost lost control when he defended them, and if she hadn't had the good sense to step in when she did, the night could have ended much differently.

As a soldier, he had to learn how to control his temper. A soldier enraged did no one any good, especially when he lost control, which was counterintuitive, but true. Rage blinded. Rage numbed. Rage was all consuming. He prided himself in his ability to maintain an inner calm during a firefight, but there were those moments when his inner demons came out. Unfortunately for him, they tended to come out whenever Vera was involved. He never raised a hand to her, even when she pummelled him with heavy fists and scarred him with tackily painted nails.

But last night, he felt the overwhelming instinct to protect Anna at all costs. The man, whoever he was, had all of the hallmarks of a predator. God only knew what he would have done to Anna if he hadn't been there. He had no doubt that his fiery little lady could hold her own and get in a few licks if she had to, but she would have quickly been overwhelmed. He vowed afterward that he would never let any harm to come to her for the rest of her life, and quickly accepted what that notion meant. To cherish and protect her for all time came with a certain level of commitment that he was starting to have some serious thoughts about.

Perhaps spending the night with her, in her bed and enveloped in her scent and loving embrace, was a horrible mistake after all. He spent the entire drive home lost in his own thoughts, remembering the feel of her lithe body against his, when they embraced in and out of her bed. By the time he got back to the vicar's cottage, he had a serious problem. Lust had begun to invade his thoughts and his body was responding in kind. While he was no stranger to or opponent of the notion of self-release, even as a vicar, he couldn't bring himself to do it. Not now, not imagining Anna. He didn't feel that he had the right to imagine her as such. He turned the shower as cold as he could stand it, washing quickly and tempering his ardor.

He felt an enormous sense of guilt at spending the night with Anna in his arms, even if it was perfectly innocent and mostly chaste. Even as he had rationalized with Anthony's help that he was only married on paper, it still felt like another stone thrown at his moral character. Waiting for the divorce to be finalized would be the longest trial of his life. Spending a year in the Iraqi desert or the Afghan steppes wouldn't have felt as long as these next few weeks. It would be well worth it though, to be free of the yoke of his past and look toward the future.

His heart skipped a beat when he saw her walk into the church that morning, looking refreshed and rather lovely. She spoke a while with Elsie and Charles, which pleased him greatly, given that Elsie had asked after her twice since Christmas day. Apparently Anna had made quite the impression on them both, and he was beginning to think that there wasn't a single person in the world who could speak ill of her. She was just that special.

Anna's presence and love inspired his sermon, and he looked to her for strength throughout. It was strange how, not two months ago, he looked only to God for inner peace and resolve, but now, he knew he had another champion in his corner. She took communion from him for the first time, which absolutely delighted him. She seemed sincere as he asked her silently with his eyes if she was sure she was committed enough to receive the offering. Her little nod was firm, and he tried desperately to hide his joy.

He should have known that he couldn't have everything.

Vera appeared over Anna's shoulder after the service. He had no idea if she'd been there the entire morning or had just arrived, and he didn't care. All he knew was that after eight years without seeing her, and over twenty of seeing her far too much, every detestable impulse he had as far as she was concerned rose and threatened to boil over at the very sight of her. For the first time in his life, his instinct wasn't to stay and fight. It was to flee. And so he ran like a coward, stumbling into his private office and slamming the door behind him. He ran away to keep from losing that control of his life that he'd fought so desperately for.

The door opened, and he spun quickly, thinking that Anna or even Elsie had come after him. He stupidly never considered that it would be Vera who would boldly invade his own sanctuary with her haughty smile.

"Allo, Johnny," she purred after she shut the door behind her, leaning against it.

"Get out of here," he said, looking away from her.

She snorted and folded her arms across her chest, her posture telling him she was eager for a fight. She always was. "That's a queer way to greet your wife," she said with a cocky smile. "Come on and kiss me."

"Not on your life," John spat. He balled his hand into a fist. "You need to leave the premises at once."

Vera took a couple steps toward him, but he stood his ground. "The sign out front says _All are welcome in the House of the Lord_," she replied coolly. "I don't think you want to cause a scene. So let's talk."

John looked up at her, taking in her appearance. It was as if she hadn't aged a day in these eight years between them, except for the deeper lines around her eyes. She obviously was well taken care of by whoever she'd been living with. He could almost see the handsome woman he'd married so long ago under the vile shell of who she became. At least he'd managed to shake off his dark mantle. She was wearing hers proudly.

"We have nothing to talk about," John said flatly. "We've been separated for eight years. You had another man's child. Both are grounds for an uncontested divorce. I'll assume that because you're here, you were served the papers? Are you here to give them to me, signed and accepted?"

Vera chuckled and slid around his desk to sit in his chair, leaning back like she owned the place. "You know I wouldn't have come all the way up here if it was that simple," she replied.

She had a point. Vera had a flair for histrionics and the dramatic. He should have known that it wouldn't be clean and simple. Vera Nelson Bates never let anyone have the last word or last slap in a fight. It wasn't in her nature.

"What do you want?" he finally said. His knee was throbbing, but he had no intention of sitting down and showing weakness, especially as she was in his chair and he would have been forced into a visitor's seat. He would not give her that psychological upper hand.

"An explanation. You couldn't just leave well enough alone, could you, Johnny?" she said with a tilt of her head. "We had a good understanding, you and I. We didn't bother each other, and we lived our lives as if the other didn't exist."

"Then a divorce should make that understanding so much easier to deal with," John said, narrowing his eyes.

Vera's eyes flashed hotly. "Except that the day I was served the papers, I was with my...companion. He'd been pressing me to marry him, and then he found out I was married all along. He threw me out."

John had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from smirking in satisfaction. "My condolences," he said flatly. "Add it to the long list of relationships you've destroyed with your lies."

Vera harrumphed, then smiled slyly and glanced toward the door. "She's a pretty little thing, isn't she?" she crowed.

"Who?" he asked, his heart pounding in fear.

"That Anna you've taken up with," she said. She snorted at his indignant expression. "And don't lie to me and say you don't know what I'm talking about. The church board and the diocese would _love_ to know that their newest vicar was married and having an affair."

Anger boiled up in him and he snarled through gritted teeth. "You have no proof of anything," he snapped. He gripped the edge of the desk in front of him to steady himself.

"I have plenty of proof," she replied, a little smile pulling her mouth upward. "I know you spent the night at her flat, in her bed. She should really get some thicker curtains. You can really see quite well into her flat when the lights are on. The photos I have of you two together are quite stunning."

John's blood pounded in his ears as he bit back a string of expletives. "What do you want?" he repeated his question from earlier.

Vera stood up and slid around the desk to stand before him, leaning into his personal space. He could smell the stale sourness of her favourite scotch on her breath. Not fresh, but recent. It was likely that it washed down her breakfast. "My lawyer will be in touch," she said quietly. She turned and went to the door, stopping as she turned the handle. "A priest?" she asked with a chuckle. "Honestly, John, a priest? If there was a God, he would be disgusted with the unholy things we did in bed…"

"I won't tolerate your vulgarity in a house of the Lord," John snapped, taking a step toward her. He had his limits, and she'd finally toed the edge.

"It's sad that your God has made you a prude," she sighed, "because they were your vulgarities too. I'm sure Anna would run far, far away at the mention of some of the things you used to do to me. Unless she's into those sorts of things. They were fun." She stepped out of the door and looked back over her shoulder. "Thank you for your time, Reverend."

After the door was closed and he was sure she was gone, John closed his eyes and blindly grabbed the nearest thing he could reach. He threw it against the wall with a sickening crunch of tearing paper. His grandfather's bible, held together with old glue and brittle twine, finally split open, spilling its pages across the floor.

**II.**

"_I'm the vicar's wife."_

Those words, spoken by a woman of similar age with John, in a tone that dripped with thinly veiled venom, were an icy dagger to her heart. Anna heard Elsie gasp beside her as the woman pushed her way into John's private office off the main chapel. The entire room began spinning and her throat suddenly swelled so tightly that air could barely reach her lungs.

His_ wife_.

He'd said he had been married before and that it hadn't worked out. But he never said anything about still being married, and certainly not to any woman who could appear before them out of the blue. The look that the woman had given Anna had sent chills down her spine. This woman sought her eyes out specifically and smiled, and that act alone told her that she knew exactly who Anna was to John.

The sudden urge to run away was too great to control as she bolted from the church, dignity be damned, with Elsie calling after her in a worried voice. She got into her car and pulled away from the curb without looking, and some time later, she found herself in front of her building. She had no recollection of the entire drive home, she just_ went_.

Anna numbly unlocked her door, hands shaking almost uncontrollably. She made it inside and slammed the door behind her, breathing heavily and squeezing her eyes shut. She fumbled in her purse for her phone, thumbed through the contacts list, and found the name she was looking for.

"Hello?" Mary Crawley said in a cheerful voice through the phone.

"Did you know he was married?" Anna asked in a flat voice without greeting her.

Mary was silent a moment. "Anna?" she asked.

"_Did. You know. He. Was married?_" Anna drew out every word, making sure that she wasn't misheard again.

Mary sighed heavily. "That's what I was trying to get at the other day," she said quietly. "Did he just tell you?"

"No," Anna snapped. "His _wife_ showed up at the church."

"Shit," Mary groaned. "Anna, you should know…"

Anna had no patience to hear another word on the matter. She hit the end button and tossed her phone back in her purse after turning it off. She began trembling uncontrollably, vacillating between anguish and anger. Ugly sobs broke out and she pressed hard against her stomach to keep herself upright. It did no good, as she ended up collapsing onto her sofa, screaming, though no sound came out.

He was just like Marcus and Stephen had been. Only this time, she was the other woman. He had a wife that he'd been keeping from her the entire time he professed his love, as they kissed and lay entwined on her bed. Her home suddenly became a cage as memories of last night came flooding back to torture her. She clutched a pillow to her chest and squeezed tightly, her entire body shaking with sobs.

She had a sudden instinct to flee again, to get as far away from this place as soon as she could. She managed to get up and go into her bedroom, refusing to look at the indent in the pillow where his head had been only hours ago, and the blanket that he'd neatly folded and placed on the chest at the foot of the bed. She pulled her small carryon out of her closet and began tossing whatever clean clothes and toiletries she could find into it, until it was so full she couldn't close it. She quickly chose what not to bring along and tossed those items onto the floor beside the bed, not caring where they landed. Her work bag and laptop were slung over her shoulder hurriedly. She knew that she needed to be gone before he tried to come after her.

Moe was none too excited to be shoved unceremoniously into his carrier with a few cans of food and his favorite old blanket from the sofa. She gave her utterly trashed looking flat the once over to make sure she hadn't left anything that she would need for the next few days, walked into the hallway carrying everything she needed to survive away from this place, and locked the door behind her.

**III.**

John emerged from his office a disheveled mess a few minutes after Vera left. He managed to gather all of the pages from his bible and stack them neatly together, vowing to have it fixed as soon as possible. But for now, he had to go find Anna.

Elsie was gathering her sheet music from the organ when he found her. She gave him quite a stern glare and crossed her hands at her waist. "Can I help you, Reverend Bates?" she said, her tone somewhat cold.

"Where's Anna?" he asked quickly, looking around the church desperately.

Elsie harrumphed and looked at him sidelong. "She left here as soon as your _wife_ introduced herself to us. She was very upset, as I think she has a right to be." She pursed her lips and shook her head. "We all have a right to be angry."

John felt like he'd been punched in the gut and almost threw up right there in front of the altar. He bent over to catch his suddenly short breath, squeezing his eyes shut. He'd hoped that he could have gotten to Anna first, to deflect the coming blow, but it appeared that Vera had gotten her digs in first. She always did.

"Did she say where she was going?" he asked, pressing his hand to his forehead. His leg was beginning to throb mercilessly, but he pushed the pain back down. He was breaking into a cold sweat from the effort to stay upright.

"I don't know her mind any more than I know yours, Reverend," Elsie replied with a noncommittal shrug. "From the looks of it, she was just as surprised to see your wife as you were."

John swallowed bile that had begun to rise in his throat. He ducked back into his office and grabbed his keys and coat, and quickly left the church. He had to find Anna and explain things, or he would lose her forever.

**IV.**

Gwen was, as always, the best friend a girl could have.

She even threw Iain out of her flat for Anna.

Anna took in her friend's generally disheveled appearance, and the fact that Iain was standing behind her buttoning his shirt, and quickly decided to turn and go to her mother's house instead, even if it would take hours for the heat to warm the place up. Gwen took one look at Anna's tearstained, puffy face and pulled her into her flat. Awkward introductions were made between her and Iain before Gwen took him aside and whispered something to him. He frowned and put his glasses back on, straightened his thinning hair, and glanced curiously in Anna's direction as they talked.

Moe made a pathetic mewl from inside his crate, and Anna set him down, opening the wire door so he could get out. He'd been here a few times before when Anna's flat had had maintenance issues that required her to vacate it overnight, so he immediately stepped out like the cock of the walk. He quickly found the sofa and perched atop it, looking between the three humans like he was judging them.

Iain gave Gwen a quick kiss on the cheek, said polite goodbyes to them both, and left the flat. Gwen turned to Anna and sighed. "I don't want to sound like a prat, but you came at just the right time. He wasn't getting the hints to go home."

On any other day, had she been in better spirits, Anna would have been throwing question after question at her friend. But she couldn't bring herself to say anything, instead walking over to the sofa and sitting down on it heavily, immediately burying her face in her hands.

"Bollocks," Gwen groaned as she came over to sit beside Anna, wrapping her arm around her. "What happened?"

It took several seconds for Anna to bring the words to her lips. "He's married," she finally said aloud in a croaking voice. "His wife showed up in the church today. I was made a right fool by him."

Gwen's fingers dug into her bicep, squeezing hard enough to bruise. "That selfish prick," she spat. "Well, at least you found out before you slept with him, or even worse, fell in love with him."

Anna's sudden stiffness and widening eyes must have shouted volumes to Gwen. "Noooo, no, no, no…" she muttered.

"I didn't sleep with him," Anna replied, shaking her head. "He did stay at my place last night, but it wasn't like that."

"And what about the other part?" Gwen pressed.

Anna's body crumpled as fresh tears spilled over. Gwen wrapped both arms around her shoulders and rocked her gently. She whispered promises to personally hunt down John Bates and kill him herself. Between ragged breaths, Anna told Gwen about their date yesterday, the attack, and how she insisted that John stay to rest his leg. She hadn't told her about their profession of love at New Year's yet and included that as well, and by the time she had finished, Gwen was crying right along with her.

"So now you know everything," Anna sobbed, wiping her runny nose with the sleeve of her nicest blouse. "I've gone and given my heart to yet another man who just steps all over it like it's a piece of rubbish."

Gwen stroked Anna's hair, smoothing it back from her face. "Maybe it's all a misunderstanding?" she said hopefully.

Anna snorted indignantly. "There's not a lot that can be misunderstood about _'I'm the vicar's wife.'_ She was perfectly clear about that. I just don't know why he wouldn't tell me."

"Maybe they're getting a divorce, and she's a right twat about it all."

"Or maybe he's just like Stephen and Marcus and this time _I'm_ the other woman," she said between clenched teeth. "Honestly, if you'd seen the look she gave me, it's like she knew _exactly_ who I was."

"You should talk to him," Gwen suggested.

Anna shook her head sternly. "No," she snapped. "I don't want to hear anything he has to say."

"There has to be some explanation!" Gwen groaned, throwing herself backward on the sofa in frustration. "I just can't see a vicar so brazenly cheating on his wife like that."

"He's married. Apparently, he wanted me to be his mistress," Anna reasoned. "He strung me along, he lied to me, he kept things from me. Ain't nothing else to explain."

Gwen raised one brow, smiling more than she should, given Anna's feelings at the moment. "Would you be his mistress though?" she asked. "He's a nice looking fellow."

"No!" Anna almost shouted. "I've been on the other side of the coin, I won't do it to another woman, no matter how much I…" She stopped and shook her head, looking down at her laced fingers. "No matter how much I love him." Anna sighed and glanced upward. "I need to stay here for a while. Not just because of the looney on the street, but because I don't want to think about John right now. All I can see in my mind is him lying beside me, and kissing him, and...oh God, this is impossible."

They sat silently for several minutes, their postures exact twins of each other, laying back against the couch cushions and staring at the ceiling. Finally, Gwen turned her head and looked at her. "I've got fudge ripple in the freezer," she offered.

Try as she might, Anna couldn't stop the tiny smile that turned her lips upward.

**V.**

John drove around Anna's neighborhood, cursing her lack of parking for the umpteenth time, finally finding a space a block away from her building. He parked and quickly got out of the car, not even bothering to feed the parking meter, and limped as quickly as he could to the front door. He'd tried calling her several times, but only got the robotic voice mail greeting after two rings. He dialed her number one more time as he jiggled the locked door handle to the lobby and bit back a curse. No answer, and no way he could get into the building.

At the sound of the beep, he left her a third message. "Anna, it's me," he said in an anguished voice. "Please call me. What happened...it's not what you think, I assure you." He paused for a moment before adding one last message. "I love you, Anna. Please."

He punched the end call button and searched for the name on the ringer panel beside the door. He pressed the one that said _A. Smith_ and waited patiently. There was no reply after four times pressing the buzzer. Panic began to build as he considered whether the man who had come after them last night could have found her again. He pressed the button marked _N. Patel_ and waited again.

"Yes?" Mr. Patel's voice crackled over the speaker.

"Mr. Patel?" John spoke up. "My name is John Bates. I was the fellow with Miss Anna Smith on New Year's when she was locked out of her flat."

There was a pause. "And what does that mean to me?" Mr. Patel replied shortly.

John pressed his lips together and sighed. "I'm afraid I need to find her, but she's not answering her phone or her bell. I'm worried about her...there was a man who attacked us outside the building last night, and he may be after her." It wasn't a lie. More than anything at the moment, he needed to be sure she was safe.

There was no reply, but thirty seconds later, Mr. Patel opened the door and glared up at him before looking out onto the street. A tiny woman who must have been Mrs. Patel was with him, clutching the front of her sari with one hand and holding a cricket bat with the other.

"You're a priest?" Mr. Patel frowned, his long eyebrows twitching almost comically.

John glanced down at the black shirt and pants he wore. He hadn't even taken the time to remove his collar before leaving the church. "I am," he said. "I'm terribly worried about Miss Smith. May I go knock on her door?"

Both of the Patels nodded in unison and stepped aside for him to enter the lobby. To his surprise, they followed him to the elevator. Mrs. Patel hefted her bat and frowned sourly at him. "You say someone attacked you last night?" she asked, gripping the bat tightly.

John nodded as the elevator doors closed behind them. "Yes, ma'am. I fought him off, but he seemed to be after her. That's why I'm so worried about her."

"He give you that limp?" Mr. Patel asked, glancing down at his leg.

John shook his head ruefully. "An old injury, but he exacerbated it." The doors opened and they walked quickly to Anna's door. John knocked hesitantly at first, then balled up his fist to bang louder. "Anna?" he called loudly. "It's John. Are you there?"

After a few seconds, he knocked again. "Anna, please, I just want to know you're alright. I'll go if you just tell me you're alright," he pleaded.

Again, no response. He scrubbed his hands through his hair in anguish, his face growing hot. Mrs. Patel laid one hand on his forearm and gave her husband a meaningful stare. Mr. Patel nodded and cleared his throat. "Miss Smith," he called out. "This is Mr. Patel. I need to open the door assure your welfare." He waited and sighed, digging the key out of his pocket. "This is only because she is a good tenant and we worry like you do, yes?" he said to John as he turned the doorknob. "I must go first as landlord." He stepped into the flat and stopped in the foyer. "Miss Smith?" he said quietly.

John pushed past him and gasped loudly. Things were thrown all over. As he went from room to room, he found clothes on the floor and bed, the medicine cabinet open and contents spilling out, and the pantry doors wide open. The laptop that had been on her little desk in the corner was missing, along with her briefcase. It was a far cry from the neat and tidy place he'd been in last night, and his stomach lurched.

"He's gone after her," he gasped, the room growing dark and tight around him.

Mrs. Patel held her bat up as she went from room to room herself. "Neeraj, call the police," she said to her husband.

The elderly man had his phone out, but John's own phone rang instead. He didn't even bother looking at the number before answering. "Anna?" he gasped hopefully.

"No," Robert said sharply. "Mary's just told me about Vera. Anna called her."

John palmed his forehead. At least that was something. "Did she say where she was going? I'm at her flat. It's in shambles and I can't raise her on the phone. That friend of hers that works for you as receptionist...Gwen. Do you have her number? Perhaps she knows something."

Robert mumbled something about John not listening to him to begin with before giving him Gwen's phone number. John recited it back from memory before hanging up and dialing it.

"Hello?" Gwen answered.

"Yes, Gwen?" he said in a rush. "This is John Bates. Anna's friend."

Gwen was silent, and he heard a little bit of a rustling sound in the background. "How did you get my number, John Bates?" she said sharply.

He rolled his eyes and held one hand up in frustration. "From your employer," he replied. "Look, Anna ran out because she was upset, and I've been trying to find her…"

"She's right here," Gwen said coolly. "But she don't want to talk to you."

John breathed a very heavy and very audible sigh of relief. "Oh thank God," he almost cried, pressing his hand to his eyes. "Thank God. I'm in her flat, and it looks like it's been sacked."

"The feck are you doing in her flat?" Gwen almost shrieked.

There was a commotion on the other end of the line, and then he heard Anna's distinct breathing. "Why are you in my flat, John?" she asked hotly.

He almost wept at the sound of her voice. "I couldn't find you, so I thought that bloke from last night had come after you. I had your landlords let me in. Mrs. Patel has been standing watch with a bashed in cricket bat the whole time." He looked around at the chaos that marred her bedroom. "I think someone has been here though. There's things everywhere."

"That was me," Anna said flatly. "I packed a bag and left. I won't be staying there for some time. Thank you for your concern, Reverend." The use of his honorary made his stomach fall. "Please leave my flat and lock the door behind you."

"Anna, I need to talk to you," John pleaded. He couldn't let things end like this.

"I'm done talking to you, John," she shouted, her voice breaking. "I'm done with your secrets and lies and half truths. I'll not be made a fool by you again."

"Anna, please…"

"Go back to your _wife_, Reverend Bates." And with that, the line went dead.


	19. Chapter 19

**I.**

Anna spent the rest of that day and the next camped out on Gwen's couch. She called out sick, which Robert was more than willing to allow given the circumstances, and on Tuesday, her guilt at letting John Bates get the better of her nagged her enough to make her go back to work. She'd only packed one suit when she made her hasty retreat, so Gwen offered to stop by her flat Monday night to grab a few more things for her.

Gwen came home with a garment bag full of suits and stared at Anna with wide eyes from the foyer. "You really did a number on your flat, you maniac," she said in wonder. "You'd think a pack of robbers had rummaged through the place."

Anna rolled her eyes and unfolded herself from her temporary home on the sofa, taking the heavy bag from Gwen and hanging it up in the wardrobe. "It can't be that bad," she said flatly. She returned to the sofa and hit play on the remote, going back to her binge watch of old Sir David Attenborough documentaries. It was mindless and pretty and she didn't get emotional like a regular show would have caused, except when the baby antelope was killed. She wept uncontrollably at that.

"I picked up your plants and watered them," Gwen said, flopping down on the sofa beside her.

Anna frowned. "What about my plants?"

"I figure Moe must have gotten into them again?" Gwen shrugged. "The one by your window to the balcony was knocked over. Dirt everywhere."

Anna shook her head numbly. "I must have been so out of it that I didn't see them when I got home yesterday," she reasoned. "Thank you though."

Gwen was quiet for several minutes, blindly watching as penguins traipsed across the ice on her television. "Robert and Mary asked after you," she finally said quietly. "They're quite worried about you."

"That's lovely of them," Anna replied shortly. "Would've been lovelier that they had been more vocal when they knew that John was married and trying to get involved with me."

Gwen sighed and leaned her head back, turning toward Anna. "They wouldn't get into details, but they were rather insistent that you need to know the truth about John before you pass judgement."

Anna snorted and rubbed her hand across her eyes. "I know enough of John Bates's version of the _truth_," she spat, tears welling up. "You know, I've actually been giving thought to quitting the firm, just to have less reasons to run into him."

Gwen reached over and smacked Anna on her shoulder. "Stop that, you," she chided. "There's no man worth quitting your job over." She paused and gave her a wicked grin. "Unless Orlando Bloom shows up and says _quite your job and let's go live in the Bahamas together_."

"You and Orlando," Anna muttered. "I just don't know that I care to be there if he's just going to show up to see Robert like he does."

"I'm the receptionist and head secretary," Gwen said, puffing her chest out. "He's not getting past my desk."

Anna gave her a long glance out of the corner of her eye. "Promise?" she said in a tiny voice.

"Promise."

**II.**

The constable at the local police precinct gave him quite the staredown when John walked into the lobby wearing his collar. "I'd like to see about filing a report?" he said to the desk sergeant.

"For what?" the woman asked, looking back to her computer.

"For a crime," John said with a sigh.

She glanced up at him again with one raised brow. "Someone try to steal from the offering plate, Vicar?"

"No," John said a bit impatiently, folding his coat over his arm. "For assault and battery. My friend and I were attacked Saturday night. We wanted someone to come out that evening, but we were told to come back during normal operating hours, not that criminals tend to keep regular hours themselves." He narrowed his eyes at the sergeant, who was still not paying him any mind. "A man followed us down the street, he came after my female friend, and I knocked some sense into him. Do I need to elaborate more now, or will you take my statement and make it formal?"

The sergeant perked her ears up at John's mention of knocking the man around. "The woman you were with…" She dug into a pile of paper on her desk. "Smith? Anna Smith?"

John's heart thudded in his chest. "Yes, it was."

The sergeant slapped the paper into a clipboard and handed it to him, along with a pen. "She gave her statement this morning. Please add yours to the bottom. We'll see about looking into it."

"What about CCTV? Could there be any footage from them?" He looked over Anna's delicate handwriting. It was interesting, without being overly feminine. Professional, clear, and stylish. Much like her. He sighed heavily, his heart tightening in his chest.

"Yeah, there's nothing on that street," the sergeant replied, going back to her computer screen. "Already looked up the address when Miss Smith was in. This isn't London, you know. We ain't got cameras on every block and alley."

John bit his lower lip in frustration, looking up at the stained ceiling tiles and flickering fluorescent lights. So the bastard would probably never be caught. At least he got in some damage, hopefully enough to keep him away permanently. He selfishly wished he could have done more, but it wouldn't have done him or Anna any good to have been arrested for attempted murder or even worse.

He quickly scrawled his version of events at the bottom under Anna's statement and handed it back to the sergeant, who only gave him a passing nod as she dropped the paper onto a pile of other reports. "If we have any questions, we'll look you up, Reverend Bates," she said absently. "Thank you for stopping by the station. We hope you have a nice day," she finished in a singsong voice that clearly dismissed both him and his claims.

John ground his molars back and forth and pulled his coat on, stepping back out into the chilly morning air. The law firm wasn't far from here, and he had to talk to Robert about Vera's sudden appearance and threats.

It wasn't Gwen at the reception desk when he entered the lobby of the firm, it was another, slightly older woman. She smiled politely at him as he walked in apprehensively, looking around for Anna. "Can I help you?" she asked in a pleasant voice.

"Ah, yes," John muttered quietly. "My name is John Bates. Robert is expecting me." He had to take care of matters with Vera first before they spun further out of control.

"One moment," she replied, dialing the phone and speaking to Robert over the line. "Mister Crawley will be right out, Mister Bates. He says you can have a seat over there." She pointed to indicate a chair off to one side, out of view of the main hallway.

John raised one brow and nodded, ambling over and sitting down with a heavy sigh. He tuned his ears as best he could, hoping to hear even a tiny trace of Anna's voice, but all he could hear was the tick tack of the receptionist's keyboard and the occasional phone ringing from around the building. He stretched his leg out carefully, the knee still slightly swollen and aching, but much better today than it had been the day before.

Robert finally came around the corner from his office, murmuring his thanks to the receptionist with a beaming smile, and came to greet John. His expression was far more serious as he shook John's hand. "Why don't you come into the conference room," he said, sweeping his hand toward a set of double doors even further away from the main hallway.

"Are you trying to hide me away, Robert?" John asked bitterly as he was ushered into the opulent room. There was a long antique table at the center with high-backed leather chairs to surround it. A large monitor took up the wall at one end of the room, and an restored marble fireplace was at the other. John could see the park from the bank of windows, and he knew that Anna's office must be only a few down from this room.

"I might be," Robert acknowledged. "I don't need my employees mulling over a broken heart during office hours. It's rather unprofessional."

They took seats beside each other at one end of the table. John crossed his legs and rubbed his brow in consternation. "I think I know how to maintain a professional appearance, Rob," he snapped angrily. "And so does Anna. We know how to exercise discretion."

"Professionalism and discretion are the exact things we need to worry about here." Robert fixed him with a stern glare. "You let things get too far and now you've both been burned by it," he said firmly. "And Vera knows about it."

John raised his brows in surprise. "How do you know about that?" he asked.

"Because her lawyer called me this morning to discuss _terms_."

"Terms!" John snorted. "There are no _terms_ for this divorce!" He grabbed the back of his neck and rubbed furiously. "I owe her absolutely nothing, because she is the one who is one hundred percent at fault."

Robert winced and reached over to peck at a key on the sleeping laptop beside him. The screen came alive and he hunted around in his email until he could pull up photos. There, as clear as day despite the wispy curtains that slightly obscured them, was a photo of him and Anna, standing very closely and kissing in her living room when he left early Sunday morning. Then another photo of her pushing him down onto the bed. And another of her drawing the heavier curtains closed while wearing her little t-shirt. They were taken from street level, likely from the inside of a car.

"Did you have to sleep with her, John?" Robert asked in disappointment, glancing down at John's collar.

"Oh, for fuck's sake!" John spat, standing up and storming around. He didn't care about his language. He didn't care about the collar around his neck that suddenly felt like a yoke. He didn't care about his own virtue. He only cared that Vera was, by simple burden of photographic proof, was trying to paint Anna in a salacious light. "We didn't have sex," he said, sawing his jaw back and forth.

"It certainly looks that way," Robert said carefully.

John felt his face grow hot and he braced himself against the fireplace mantel, not looking at Robert. "We didn't have sex," he repeated. "We did…" He stopped and looked upward. "We did sleep in the same bed, but not in that sort of way." He looked across the table to meet Robert's eyes. "I value her far too much to let hormones or passion get the better of us."

Robert's eyes widened and he looked down at his fingernails. "I'll need you to tell me everything that happened that night," he said seriously.

"I don't see how any of that matters!" John almost shouted, waving his hand in anger. He was becoming increasingly irrational, and he knew that if he didn't get control of himself soon, his temper would explode. He was barely keeping a lid on himself as it was.

"It does matter," Robert snapped right back to him. "Because Vera is building a case against you for abandonment, for being a serial adulterer, and an abusive husband."

"What?" John croaked out in disbelief. "I've done none of those things."

Robert ticked his fingers. "Abandonment. You departed the marriage first. You left and broke the home."

"Because she had another man's child."

He ticked another finger. "She's claiming you were unfaithful the whole marriage, and is using these photos with you and Anna to try to establish that you are a serial philanderer."

"I'm nothing of the sort," John snarled. "I never cheated on Vera while we were together. I haven't slept with another woman other than her since we started dating in 1981, right after we started university. I haven't even had sex since 2005. Do you know how pathetic that sounds? Even as a priest, that's pitiful." He had to laugh at the notion, his sharp cackle dry and humourless.

Robert nodded and sighed. "And she's claiming that your were physically abusive." He looked at John rather pointedly. "John, I know you had and _still_ have a temper…"

"I never laid a hand on Vera, except to raise my own to shield myself," John said in a deathly quiet voice. "I sat there passively every time she threw something at me, every time she dug her nails into my skin." He pointed at his right cheek. "This scar? This is from a highball glass she threw at my face." He rolled up his left sleeve. "These?" He drew his fingers down the thin white lines that criss crossed his wrist. "Her nails when she grabbed me when I tried to walk out the first time. There's more, but they're mixed in with the shrapnel wounds."

"Why didn't you report her for domestic abuse?" Robert's expression had suddenly taken on a sympathetic softness. John had never told his friend about Vera's violent tendencies, because he was ashamed of how it would make him look.

John chuckled and rolled his eyes. "You know no one would have taken me seriously," he said with a rueful snort. "A big, strong Army man saying that his wife was attacking him every time she so much as let a drop of alcohol pass her lips? No, I'd have been in jail instead. Vera emasculated me in every way." He rubbed one hand across his eyes, which were suddenly moist with tears. "Suddenly she's trying to portray me as some sort of raging monster, when the whole time, it was her. But I suppose the magistrate would side with her. They always side with the woman on these things, it seems."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that," Robert assured him quietly. "There are enough character witnesses in your favour, and Vera has a known history of being erratic. She's been picked up for public intoxication a few times in the past ten years. Her lawyers did send another picture though." He clicked through to the next photo, which showed John leaning over the limp body of their attacker on the street. John's arm was swung up high, ready to land another blow, while Anna was screaming. His face was contorted in a rictus of rage. It was a frightening instant of animalistic violence caught in time. "You want to tell me what the hell this is about?" Robert asked seriously.

His body suddenly felt heavier than a mountain. John almost fell into the nearest chair and held his bruised hand up to show Robert. "That man attacked us on the street Saturday night," John croaked out. "I made sure he never did it again. I wrenched my knee, and that's why I ended up spending that night at Anna's." He shook his head and squinted at the light above them. "Honestly, all of that happened with the attack, and her first thought was to continue to stalk me and take photos, going so far as to invade Anna's personal privacy by photographing her through her window? If that's not the hallmark of a disturbed person, I don't know what is." A thought suddenly occurred to him as he looked at the photo of him and Anna during the fight. "Do you suppose she has more photos of this? Perhaps we can give them to the police to track the man down."

"So that Vera can spin it and say that you attacked the man first, with the photos showing that you used your SAS training to nearly beat the man to death?" Robert asked with raised brows. "I fear that may backfire on you."

"I'd rather take the chance that the photos can be used to find the perpetrator than worry about Vera trumping up false accusations against me," John reasoned. "Can we get them from her somehow?"

"You honestly think she'll do a damned thing to help you, or Anna for that matter?" Robert asked. He frowned and studied the photo. "We can try to get a police order to seize the photos, as they're evidence in a crime, but what if this is all she has? It paints you as the attacker. She could destroy all of the other files."

John scrubbed his hand over his mouth, pressing his lips into his palm as he considered it. "No, so long as Vera hasn't changed her ways, she has these photos and more, likely stashed in two or three different places. Her purse. Wherever she's staying. Probably one in her car. I think a police order is the way to go. Do you have any pull with them?"

Robert's cheek twitched upward. "I'm running out of favours to call in, you know. Give me a few days, and I'll see what I can do."

They made a little more small talk and finally, John stood to leave. He looked toward the door forlornly and sighed. "I need to sort all of this out with Anna," he said quietly as he shook his head. "I can't leave things as they are now."

"Do you want me to have a word with her?" Robert asked as he reached for the door handle.

John shook his head sharply. "No, this is my mess. I just have to find the right moment." He smiled gently. "I won't cause drama at your place of business, I assure you."

"Thank God for that," Robert breathed in relief as he showed John to the elevator. "I'll call you when I hear something."

Once outside, John looked up and down the street, trying to think of his next move. He understood if she never wanted to see him again. In retrospect, he would have felt just as angry and betrayed if she'd told him she had a husband dangling on a long leash somewhere, no matter how separated their lives were. He could only hope that she would hear him out. He barely dared to hope that she would understand.

John turned up the collar of his coat and crossed the street to the park side, heading back toward the garage where his car was parked. He stopped after a few steps, turned and looked back toward the building. His eyes were drawn upward to the third floor where he'd come from.

Anna stood in the window of her office, her palm pressed against the glass. Their eyes met for an agonizing few seconds before he sighed and ducked his head. He glanced back up and she was gone from the window. She probably didn't want to see him at all. He began walking again, lumbering along with his hands in his pockets and shoulders hunched into the driving wind.

**III**.

They were avoiding her like she had the bubonic plague.

Robert ducked into his office as soon as Anna caught his eye when she arrived that morning. Mary kept her eyes hidden behind her hand as she bent over her desk pretending to work, even though Anna could tell the book she was furiously poring over was upside down. Even Matthew couldn't be arsed to give her a smile as he guiltily walked past her in the hallway on the way to the vending machines.

She was sick of people dodging her as much as the truth.

Her head was pounding, and she downed a couple of aspirin and a swig of soda from her little refrigerator. It was amazing how crying your eyes out made you look and feel like hell. She knew she had puffy eyes and a crusty nose, but she didn't give a damn. At least she'd managed to get a decent night of sleep after sobbing into Gwen's gaudy sofa pillows for an hour after she'd gone to bed. Grief and anger were exhausting.

She busied herself in her work, even if her head and heart weren't in it. She was still doing some legwork on the child custody case from her first day at the firm. There was a new one in her email that morning pertaining to a former soldier who attacked a Jordanian grocer and was sentenced to ten years in prison. He claimed PTSD the entire time, and even the victim and his family pleaded with the Crown to be lenient. The prosecution and judge had thrown the book at the man, having declared his military service and post-discharge treatment inadmissible in court. As Anna read over the summary of the events, she felt tears welling in her eyes. John easily could have been this man, given the right circumstances.

Anna pressed her fingers to closed eyelids in frustration. Here she was, doing her job, living her life, and thoughts of John entered her mind unbidden. Everything reminded her of him. She stood up and paced around the office, stopping at the tall windows where she and John had spent New Years Eve together less than a week ago. Her fingers traced the same smudges his hand had left as he looked out and admired the view. Fresh tears prickled at her eyes and she crossed her arms across her middle, trying to contain the flood that threatened to wash over her again.

No one on the street looked upward from their daily routines to see the woman whose crumbling heart was further shattering into an infinite number of pieces.

No one noticed her except the tall, black-clad man standing on the opposite side of the road, on the edge of the park, staring up at her window with a broken expression.

Her hand pressed against the glass as a lump caught in her throat. She took in a shuddering breath and met his soulful eyes with her own glassy ones. John's lips pressed together for a moment and he looked downward. Anna backed away from the window, wringing her hands together as she felt a strange mix of anger, sorrow, and hope swirling in a torrent of emotions. Her upper thighs met the sharp edge of her desk in an impact that would surely leave a bruise, snapping her out of her stupor. She stepped back to the window quickly, but John was already walking away.

Anger and determination took control of her, and she flew out the door to her office without a care for what she looked like or how cold it was outside. She almost ran through the hallway, rounding the corner and running into Robert. He gave her one startled glance as she moved past him toward the elevator, muttering "oh lord," under his breath.

Anna cursed at the infernally slow elevator as it descended, willing it to go faster, the doors to open quicker. When the old bell finally dinged, her little fingers grabbed at the doors and pressed them open faster than their maker had intended, slipping through as soon as the space was wide enough. She ran out onto the street, dodged two taxis and a work van, and ran across toward the park and the spot where she'd last seen John.

He was a disappearing smear of black on the street at least two blocks away when she spotted him. Anna grit her teeth and stomped her foot in frustration, cupping her hands to her mouth and taking in the biggest breath her lungs could hold.

"John Bates!" she yelled, scattering a flock of pigeons nearby. "You stop right there!"

Three or four people on the sidewalk stumbled in their tracks, a car swerved slightly as it drove past, and a bike messenger almost lost it in the traveling lane.

But at least John stopped.

Anna walked toward him as quickly as she could without looking any more ridiculous than she already did. John stood in the same spot for several seconds before walking slowly to meet her. They met a block from the building, her tears long having dried and her anger having risen to a fever pitch. John stood before her, shrunken in on himself, his hands tucked into his coat pockets and his eyes glassy.

"You have one chance to explain yourself," Anna said in a low voice, barely audible over the sound of a passing bus.

John looked relieved, blinking quickly and looking upward with a barely perceptible smile. "I'm sorry," he said quickly.

"I should think so," Anna snapped back.

He looked around at the street and pulled his coat a little tighter. "Can we go somewhere inside? It's freezing out here."

Anna crossed her arms under her breasts and shrugged. "I'm perfectly fine," she said. "This will be fast anyway, I think."

John closed his eyes and bowed his head, his lips pursing together. He finally sighed heavily and looked up at her, his expression despondent. "Yes, I am married," he began. "Since 1984, in fact."

Anna's heart sank and she gave him a little nod to continue. She looked at a nearby lightpost, a rubbish bin, anywhere but at him.

"I left her nearly nine years ago," he continued. "I hadn't loved her in some time, she hadn't loved me in an even longer time. We were toxic. She was unfaithful the entire marriage, and I was always able to look the other way because I didn't care enough to leave her." He shook his head and looked away from her. "I finally left when the son that I loved, that I was willing to give up the Army for, to stop drinking for, to give the entire world to...when I found out that that boy wasn't mine at all. I left Vera an hour after he was born, because I knew the moment I saw him he wasn't mine."

"That was Nigel," she said slowly.

His brows shot up and he nodded, confirming her guess.

Anna's breath caught in her throat and her eyes prickled with tears. "Then why are you still married to her, if she's so horrible? After all this time?" she asked, rubbing under her nose, which was on the verge of running like a faucet.

"Because I deployed two weeks later. And six months after that, I got my leg blown off. The military notified her about it, and she never so much as sent a get well card. I concentrated on getting my life back in order, and then I was saved by God, and Vera became the furthest thing from my mind. She showed up only two days ago because I finally filed for divorce and she can't stand that I've finally moved on."

He took a step toward her, his hand reaching toward her tentatively. "I filed now because I can't in good conscience be in a relationship with you as long as she's hanging over my head." His fingers curled open to touch her, stopping just short when she didn't return his gesture. "I realized how wonderful love can actually be, and that having you in my life has been the most unexpected and heaven sent miracle of all. I want to move on with my life. I want to be able to be with you, to love you freely and with absolute conviction. I've committed adultery in my heart, but I cannot regret loving you as I have these past days," he finished, his voice breaking. "I only regret that I hurt you, that you've lost faith and trust in me. I would spend the rest of my life trying to prove my worth to you, to show you how much I love you, if that's what you want. But if you would rather I go away and you'll never see me again, I understand. I'll leave you now. I'll put in for a transfer to another diocese so there's no risk of having to see each other. Please, give me one last chance. I say last because I would never do anything to hurt you again, this I promise." He fell silent and looked at her earnestly, his eyes flickering back and forth between hers and hand still raised slightly in silent beseechment.

Anna ducked her head and half turned her body away from his. His hand fell to his side and he sighed slowly, his breath thick in the cold air. She closed her eyes and tried to breathe evenly, but failed. She drew in several quick, staggering breaths, the cold air burning her throat as it clenched. She screwed her eyes shut and shook her head. _Stop it, Anna, you will not lose yourself on a public street like you are about to..._

John nodded and tucked his hands in his pocket again. "I said I would go, so I'll go," he said firmly. "Be well, Anna Smith, and I hope that God continues to bless and protect you." He spun on his heel and walked away from her, head hanging low.

She watched him grow smaller as the distance between them grew. No, she wouldn't let this man walk out of her life. But she couldn't quite forgive him for keeping the truth from her. She quickly ran up behind him and grabbed his shoulder, turning him around with all the force she could manage. His expression was one of slack-jawed surprise as he stumbled to regain his balance. He reached out his hand again and this time she took it. He enveloped her hand in both of his larger ones. She could feel him trembling. Or was that her?

"I need _absolute_ honesty from you," Anna said in a wavering voice. "I need to be able to trust you again. You're so secretive, and you speak in half-truths and vague blanketed statements." She shook her head and pulled her hand away from his. "I love you, John. I truly do. But I really don't know you. And you don't know me."

"Which I why I want to spend time with you, to learn more about the woman I love. Vera has complicated that though by showing up like she did. She's erratic. She'd trying to use you as some sort of proof that I was unfaithful during our marriage, which I was not." He grit his teeth and ran his hand through his hair in frustration. "She's been following us around. She saw the attack the other night. She watched us through your window. She...she has photos of us. Together, in your bedroom, and kissing, and when the fight on the street happened."

"What?" Anna asked in revulsion, her stomach sinking like a stone.

"You need to invest in some thicker curtains," John said grimly. "She's doing everything in her power to make sure that this divorce doesn't come easily, and I fear she'll stop at nothing to ruin both of our lives in the process."

Anna thought about it for a moment, about the cold stare that his wife had fixed her with in church. She _knew_ about them. She may assume the wrong idea, but she had a weapon to use against them both. "Perhaps it's best we don't see each other," she reasoned.

John's face fell and he exhaled slowly. He nodded almost imperceptibly. "Alright then," he whispered.

"I don't mean forever," Anna said in a rush, which made him frown. "Until this...mess...is settled, perhaps we shouldn't see each other." She wrung her hands together, and looked away from him. "We fell so fast and so hard for each other without learning who we _were_ together. If we have to wait a few months until you're free, then maybe that's the best course. You have a reputation to uphold. You have the most to lose."

He nodded again, this time more firmly in understanding. "I won't drag you down with me. When I said I needed time to sort things out, this is what it was. I wasn't anticipating Vera showing up. I'd hoped for a quick divorce."

"Why couldn't you just have come out and told me?" Anna whined in consternation. "I would have understood!"

"I was scared!" he snapped back at her. "I somehow reasoned that if you knew I'd walked out on her, circumstances being what they were or not, that you would think lesser of me."

Anna closed her eyes and sighed. "Relationships go bad. Yours just went bad in spectacular fashion. My father was married before he met my mother. I've been in two live-in relationships that ended poorly. Why should you assume I would think any lesser of you because you'd been in a terrible marriage? I'm upset that you didn't have enough trust in me to just tell me."

A particularly frigid blast of wind made her stumble slightly, and she hugged herself for warmth, closing her eyes against the stinging cold. She felt his warm hand on one of her shoulders, his thumb touching her neck. "You're absolutely freezing," John said quietly. She opened her eyes to see him taking off his coat. He wrapped it around her shoulders and closed the top button. It swallowed her like a giant cloak.

The cold had numbed her as much as her emotions had. She looked up at him, at his kind eyes so full of love for her, and couldn't help but to smile. "You silly beggar," she chided him. "I'm angry with you, and it will take some time to come down from that. But I love you dearly. If what we need is time apart so you can finalize things while I simmer down, then that's what we need. And after all of that is done, we can get back to where we started."

"They say that absence makes the heart grow fonder," John offered.

"Well, whoever says that is oversimplifying and whitewashing the pain of absence," she sorted. "How long will it take? The divorce, I mean."

"Robert thinks a few weeks, though now that she's contesting it and asking for terms to be met, I'm not sure what yet, it will take a little longer."

Anna felt her lower lip trembling as tears rolled down her cheeks. "I'll miss you terribly," she said in a crumbling voice.

"So will I," John agreed in a whisper. "You're all I think about." He looked skyward and grimaced. "Think of it as a deployment. I'm away in some faraway land doing battle with the enemy, but when it's all over, the homecoming will be sweet."

Anna actually giggled at the analogy and considered it for a few moments. "Doesn't make it any easier," she decided. "Though I suppose she may try to subpoena your texts and calls, so perhaps we shouldn't do that either."

"Maybe Rob can pass messages back and forth between us," he suggested.

"Like some Victorian bodice ripper," Anna quipped. "The lady and her butler are hiding their love and writing letters to be passed along by the houseboy. Oh yeah, he'll go for that."

John stepped forward and clutched at the lapels of his coat, pulling her closer. "When this is over, I intend to do what's right and honourable by you, my beautiful lady. If you would have me, I'll spend the rest of my days proving my worth to you, because at the end of each day, I know I still won't have done enough. I'll have to do better with each passing day." 

Anna blushed hotly and she reached up to take his hands. "That sounds rather serious, Reverend Bates," she said carefully. "Weren't you the one who was saying we shouldn't put the cart before the horse?"

His lips curled upward in a slow smile. "Let's get through the next few weeks, then we'll see where this goes," he said quietly, uncurling his fingers to stroke the bottom of her jaw. "When everything is done and we can be together again without judgement or reprisal. When I can stand on the rooftop of Robert's building and shout to the world that I love you."

She rolled her eyes and giggled at his romantic gesture. "You're getting ahead of yourself," she admonished him. "So this is it then? This is where I go back to work and you go on and sort your life out?"

"And we'll see each other again when it's all through," he agreed.

"You know this means I won't be in church for a while," she realized. "Will God forgive me?"

"He forgives everyone," John said. "Extenuating circumstances and all." He leaned forward quickly, and Anna closed her eyes in anticipation of a kiss, despite their being on a busy public street. Instead, his face turned slightly and he brushed his lips to her cheek, his breath hot against her skin. "Be safe and well, my love," he whispered. "I'll see you soon."

"I'll be sure to write you as you're off slaying dragons," Anna breathed into his neck. She couldn't resist running her hand through the back of his hair, relishing in the silky strands she found.

He stepped away and gave her a jaunty smile before turning down the sidewalk.

"What about your coat?" she yelled after him, trying to unbutton it.

"I'll have to get it from you another time," he called over his shoulder with a grin that she could only see in the wrinkles of his eye turned toward her. "Keep it as a souvenir. There's something in the pocket that's been giving me great comfort these past few weeks."

She was left standing there with a stupefied expression as her hands slowly drifted to the side pockets. There was nothing in those, so she patted her body quickly, hearing the crunch of paper from the inner breast pocket. She quickly reached in and pulled out the folded slip of paper, torn from a notebook. There, in what had to be John's somewhat messy scrawl, was a bible verse:

_Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres._


End file.
